A Second Chance
by Brilliant Brunette Beauty
Summary: When a teenage girl with an uncanny likeness to Patrick Jane's daughter is discovered at the scene of a murder, Jane and the team race to uncover the past and find that Red John is a greater threat than ever. *Rated T for mentions of abuse and some violence.*
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I've been writing this story for months and finally convinced myself to post it! I was hesitant because I have quite a few unfinished stories, but then I realized that whether or not I post this, I'm going to write this anyway, so why not post? WARNING: I DO NOT WANT TO GET PEOPLE MAD, SO I'LL TELL YOU THAT THIS STORY HAS ABUSE MENTIONED (KINDA SEEN TOO) AND SOME LANGUAGE.**

* * *

Once again, the poor girl was awoken by the sound of a glass bottle breaking over a hard surface, making a sickening cracking sound that assaulted her already-worn down ears for the thousandth time.

"You stupid bitch!" The vile greeting had become her usual wake up call. It wasn't offensive anymore. It simply served as a way to tell her that she had done something wrong again. Her exasperation was evident in the way she went about each day. What had she done wrong this time? Did she walk the wrong way? Did she breathe the wrong way? Clean the wrong way? Talk? Think? She never knew until it was too late to apologize.

Once again, she planted her thin arms on the hard, cold concrete in a pathetic attempt to lift herself off the dingy little mattress, one of the few things she was allowed to own anymore. However, the aching of her abdomen from her last 'mistake' made it an arduous task for the weak girl. The looming threat of another beating was her only motivation to push on and get up off the floor. She winced as she stood up fully, feeling the pressure on her sore legs, which had been tied up much too often.

"I'm coming," she called weakly in a cracking voice. Like every morning, she dreaded what lay ahead in the day. She knew nothing but pain and cruelty. It had been that way for so many years. Her hope was the only thing that she had not been stripped of yet, and she intended to hold onto it for the sake of her survival. Without it, what did she have?

Regaining some of her slowly fading strength, she scurried up the stairs and opened the door, all in the frightening dark of the musty basement. The light of the main floor hit her eyes before anything else, causing her to close them tightly in annoyance.

"Where in the hell have you been?" she heard his enraged voice yell. _'What did I do this time?_' she thought. _'Maybe I accidentally forgot to clean a little corner in his crappy little house. Oh, or maybe I responded to him in two seconds instead of one.' _Her mind was the only place in which she could afford to be bold and sarcastic. If she dared say anything of the sort out loud, she would regret it.

"Just in the basement, Sir," she answered meekly, being as obedient as humanly possible for a girl with so much spunk on the inside. She learned quickly that she had to learn how to hide her real self and put on the mask of a docile, well-behaved young girl. He waved his arm around at the response, obviously drunk already. The girl glanced at the clock. It was only 7:00 a.m. He usually didn't get this blindly drunk until later in the day, but she had learned to expect the unexpected with him.

"You lazy girl… I swear, if that check every month didn't help pay the bills, I would've gotten rid of ya a long time ago. Troublemaker…" He trailed off into mumbles of various insults and disapprovals as he went into the small living room to continue drinking his liver into failure. When the premises were finally clear of the nefarious man, the girl gathered her mop and a broom together, giving a resigned sigh as she did so.

Sometimes she wondered why he didn't give her the boot, just like all the other foster families. Why, if she was so horrible and the root of all his problems, as he claimed, did he not trade her in for a different foster child? She wished he would. Even that cold, depressing orphanage would be better than the hell she was living in at the moment. All her foster homes had been terrible, but this one topped them all. At least her former caregivers weren't this abusive and degrading. In one of the homes, she hadn't even been beaten at all. It was the happiest three months she ever had in her short life, even if that family wasn't the kindest. At least she didn't live in fear constantly like she did now.

She hadn't been to school since she came to the home a year ago, she spent her days being beaten and cleaning, and she constantly hurt somewhere on her body. Would life ever be worth living? She sincerely doubted it sometimes, but her happy reveries about a few lovely memories gave her some respite from her situation. Sometimes she believed the man when he told her how useless she was, how terrible and unlovable she was. How could she not believe it when she was showered in insults every day of her life?

Lugging the mop bucket, she headed for the back of the small home in order to clean the putrid tile floor. As soon as she reached it, she gagged in disgust. It was moldy, practically hopeless, but she needed to try if she wanted to be able to sit down that night without it hurting. The mop skidded across the floor with much force from the diminutive, weak girl. She gave herself a small smile and a mental praise for actually being able to lift the heavy mop in her state. Now, all she had to do was keep it up.

While she swept the mop all over the floor, she sang in her head a song she thought she heard on the man's beat-up radio. She couldn't remember all of it, but it was something. It was just another thing to occupy her mind besides her constant wondering on whether or not she and her foster sister would be eating that night. Though her foster sister was also a subject to the man's violent temper, staying with friends constantly kept her somewhat safe. The girl bore the brunt of the man's violent rages more often than not.

None of the mold was coming out, causing her to frown deeply.

_'Well, I guess I should get prepared for another beating,'_ she thought sadly. It amazed even her sometimes about how normal it had become to be in both physical and mental pain. She wondered if this was how everyone lived. But she knew from watching some foster families interact with her natural kids that it probably wasn't. She'd never been 'normal'. She didn't even know how a 'normal' family operates. Sighing once again, she resumed mopping. Maybe she'd get some of the mold, just some. Maybe he'd be in a good mood that day…

Yelling hit her ears yet again, causing her to wince. She could tell it was not directed at her, though. It was just mindless screaming. He did that when he was drunk sometimes. He screamed insults at no one in particular, just drunken hallucinations. She continued to clean, ignoring the irksome sound. It rose in volume and violence. Soon, a second voice angrily joined the shouting.

She froze in fear. She guessed that one of his friends was over. When they visited, it never ended well. However, she couldn't reason to herself why they were shouting at each other like they were enraged. His friends were always good natured towards him and usually drunk too. When he got with his friends, he acted like a happy drunk instead of an ill-tempered one. The other voice sounded clear, not slurred. Her curiosity that she had tried so hard to repress over the years began to creep back into her system despite her mentally berating herself.

_'It will only cause me trouble. It will only cause me trouble…'_ However, she still crept into the kitchen and then to the doorway to hear what was happening better. Even bolder, she peered into the room slightly.

In the middle of the living room, the man was fighting with another person whose face was concealed. The fighting was violent and loud, frightening the girl, yet interesting her.

She held her breath as she saw the man drunkenly move forward towards the stranger threateningly with his arm raised, like he was about to hit the person with his forearm. Just before his arm lowered to strike the strange visitor, a popping sound echoed throughout the entire house, making the girl jump. For some unknown reason, she didn't shy away from the doorway. Instead, she remained deathly still in her spot, entranced by the scene in front of her.

The man's arm was now still, along with the rest of his body. His face slowly fell and he looked down to his stomach, which was coated in dark red blood. His faced paled and his dark eyes glazed over. The girl gasped silently as the man who had been tormenting her for the past year was brought to his knees by the wound. She almost thought of him as an invincible threat. She thought he could never be defeated. Slowly, he started to lean forward until he fell on his face. The girl could tell that he was near dead, if not dead already.

The stranger was still in his place, watching in pleasure as the man died slowly and quietly. The girl knew immediately that the stranger must have had a vendetta against the man. Why else would he loom over his body and not leave the scene of the crime like most guilty men would? Quickly and quietly, she slipped back into the kitchen and opened one of the larger cabinets then climbed in. She had survived her constant torment so far. She didn't plan on dying now.

Her breathing evened out eventually when she forced it to so she would not be heard. She was used to being scared and lost. This was just another instance of it, but her future had never been this… unclear. Now that the man was dead, she had to make decisions. Those choices could wait, though. Now she knew that her life was possibly in immediate danger and she had to live. She just had to. She had never felt such a strong urge to live to see yet another tomorrow, but her survival instincts kicked in. She wasn't going to die at the hands of this strange man. She'd already had enough torment to last a lifetime, and it had only strengthened her will to survive. She knew she'd get through it. Hadn't she always?

* * *

"We have a call," Lisbon announces casually to the idly working team.

"There were gunshots heard at 5506 Hill Lane. They want us to check it out. Cho, you stay here and work. Van Pelt, Rigsby, Jane; come with me." Jane gets up off the couch he had been sleeping on slowly, lazily stretching out his arms.

"Aw, Lisbon, you know I get tired around this time of day," he jokes with her.

Lisbon shakes her head at him, which Jane cashes in his mind as a sign of success. He loves to annoy Lisbon and push her buttons sometimes. Well, all the time, really. It's his special hobby that gives him a strange satisfaction. Maybe because he knows she won't fire him. She just has to deal with it.

"I don't care when you are tired and when you are not. Get your worthless butt up. We have a case." Jane jumps up energetically, not at all tired as he claimed.

"Yes, Sir," he responds with fake seriousness. Lisbon, who has become used to his juvenile taunts after being burdened with him for quite a while, nods curtly.

"Damn straight."

Jane gives her a small smile as he starts walking to the door. Though teasing her is fun, it becomes a fun game when she responds to him in that way. Jane, being the curious fellow he is, begins to wonder what they are encountering this time around. Of course, whatever it was, he's sure he can handle it like always. _'No one seems to concerned,' _he thinks. _'This case will be wrapped up in a week.'_

* * *

They arrive at the residence quickly, without any interruptions or traffic. The house is not far from CBI headquarters. The day is bright and sunny, Jane observes. Looking around at the houses in the neighborhood, he sees no disturbances. Not even a blade of grass is out of place. All the gears in his head tell him that it is not a crime committed by anyone nearby. It was someone who was visiting the victim, or maybe robbing them. _'No, there's definitely nothing to steal at this house'_, Jane thinks_. 'It was someone who knew him, probably through an undesirable connection.' _

Lisbon, Van Pelt and Rigsby all pull out their guns and get them ready. Jane looks down at his empty jacket pocket longingly. _'It's times like these that make me wish I had a gun,'_ he thinks. He laughs sarcastically in his mind. _'Ah, who am I kidding; no I don't.' _The team holds their guns in front of them, leaning backwards in case of someone firing back at them. Jane is the last in the line because of his lack of a weapon. He's also not at all concerned. He knows the killer is long gone by now. They came here to kill whoever was inside and nothing else.

Rigsby makes an attempt to open the door; no such luck. Jane smiles. It looks like the door will have to be kicked open if they want to get anywhere, much to Jane's enjoyment. Lisbon, like always, is in the front of the action to kick the door open. Jane watches her, amused by it. For some unknown reason, he enjoys seeing Lisbon use all the strength in her small body to forcefully kick the doors open during cases.

Everyone files in, their stances ridged and their eyes fixed in front of them. Jane, on the other hand, is more casual about it. There are no cars around that look suspicious or haphazardly parked. Nothing is tipping him off that someone is in the home currently, and the small, fresh tire mark on the dirt next to the driveway says someone had been there, but not anymore. The state of the house shows that whoever lived there didn't go out much; the paint job is at least 10-15 year old, the siding is chipping away, and the garage door handles are broken. The owner was probably a drunk based on the reflection of the sun bouncing off something in the poorly kept-up lawn. Jane guesses it is glass from a broken bottle.

The team searches the area with skill and care. No corner can be left unsearched, no piece of property untouched. They have learned that lesson before, the hard way. Van Pelt jumps slightly when she hits something soft; something soft and fleshy. Jane looks down at Van Pelt's feet and sees a body. Well, not just a body. It's a middle aged man, mid-forties to early fifties, specifically; dark brown, but graying hair and a drinker's body complete with the stereotypical stained tank top and torn up shorts. From his state, Jane guesses he's been drinking since he was a teen and got addicted, the son of alcoholic parents with a habit of addiction and substance abuse running in the family. There's no way he was ever sober after his first drink. He doesn't look like a man with much self-control.

He had suffered a single gunshot wound to the stomach that killed him.

"Based on our call and the freshness of the wound, I'm guessing the man died around an hour ago, maybe two," Rigsby estimates. Jane figures he agrees with that assumption. It's obvious. Jane grows bored with it. It isn't like some of the other crime scenes they have come across. There are barely any helpful clues popping out to him, and the crime scene is definitely less… interesting than some of the others they have encountered in the past.

Casually, and in perfect Jane-esque style, he steps over the body and goes forward into the dirty little kitchen, ignoring the imploring looks from the team. He dances over the moldy, grimy tile floor, wondering how anyone could live that way. Even _he_ has standards. The room is small, to say the least, with a dingy little table and one fold-out chair placed on the side of it. That, and the fact that there is only one room on the end on the hallway, implies that the victim is the only person living in the house. However, the occasional clean spot in the room tells him differently. It looks like someone, and probably only one person, has made a half-hearted effort to clean the house, though it is hopeless at this point. It can't be the drunken man who was killed.

Jane looks around the walls of the kitchen and the cabinets. Most are completely open or partially open; a little detail showing what little care went into the cleanliness of the house. Jane's eyes go to one cabinet that is completely closed. It's large enough to hide things, even a person if need be. Jane doesn't wait any longer to find his answer to the question of who else is living in this house. He tiptoes over to the cabinet and kneels down, placing his hand on the knob and pulling it open slowly. The sight he comes across causes him to drop his jaw in shock and makes Lisbon's name catch in his throat pre-yell; he sees a teenage girl curled up in the cabinet, staring back at him.

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**A/N: Ooooooohhhhh, so, who's this girl from the beginning of the story and from the end? Well, that's for me to know and YOU to find out! Thanks for reading! And since I have nothing else to write... Ah, what the heck, I'll do it. Disclaimer: I do not own 'The Mentalist' or any of its characters, no matter how much I pretend that I do.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you to Eliza for the review (OMG, I can't believe I missed that! I went back and fixed it. Wow, why did I put that? That was stupid of me.)! Here goes nothing, I guess.**

**WARNING: STILL HAS MENTIONS OF ABUSE. I'M TRYING TO MAKE THE ABUSE REALISTIC, SO DON'T GET MAD AT ME FOR HOW I TALK ABOUT IT OR PORTRAY**** IT**.

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She's very small for someone who's probably in her teens and obviously malnourished. Her hair falls in blonde curls, just barely to her shoulder. It's well kept-up, but also cut by an amateur, which he's guessing is her. Her eyes are a glowing bluish-green, beautiful and haunting. Jane can tell just by looking in them that she's gone through much pain in her life time. He has the same look in his eyes. Those haunting eyes are wide at the sight of Jane. At the same time, she's glaring at him, like she's attempting to be brave and thinking of fighting him off somehow.

_'She's afraid of strangers, men in particular, distrustful, and is being abused by an authority figure,'_ Jane observes. He usually makes these observations with no empathy towards the person in question, sometimes even with thinly veiled disgust, but he feels a pang of sadness in his chest knowing that this helpless girl is a victim of abuse. She's around the same age as his daughter would be. _'Shut up,' _he tells himself. _'Don't use the word 'would' when you refer to her. She'll always be your daughter; she's just not here anymore.' _

Jane keeps a respectful distance from the scared little girl and maintains a sympathetic look on his face.

"Hi, sweetheart," he speaks to her in a soft tone. "I'm from the CBI. I'm the police around here. I won't hurt you; you don't need to be scared of me. I'm not in a position to hurt you." Jane's talk is convincing as always, but the girl looks strangely torn between believing him, burrowing her body further into cabinet or kicking him in the face. She's feisty, he can tell that much, but she's also scared, like most abused children. He decides to try another approach.

"I know you've been hurt," he tells her, still sympathetic, but less like a person trying not to scare a little lamb. "I can't even begin to realize how bad it is for you, and I'm not even going to try to tell you that everything is going to be alright because I have no idea, but you have two choices. You can take a chance and trust me, or you can take your chances with my teammates. Let me warn you though, they're not that soft." The girl's face displays several conflicting emotions as she struggles to come to a decision. Jane's victory comes when the girl moves forward, but as far away from him as possible. Like a gentleman, he moves aside as to not make her uncomfortable.

Her body is frail and she wobbles as she stands up straight. Her arms are riddled with purple and green bruises, made obvious by the fact that she's wearing a light blue t-shirt that's tattered at the end, but otherwise, Jane begins to think that she's the only good, clean thing in this dirty atmosphere. Though her state is bad, she looks adorable and painfully helpless in her little blue shirt, gray sweatpants and faded fuzzy socks. He doesn't care about the murder victim any longer. If the man was abusing her, he deserved his fate. This girl is he real victim. Jane's ego deflates just a little when she backs away from him in fear.

"What are you going to do with me now?" she asks him in a voice that's hard, yet cracking. He can tell she's trying to be strong, but she's terrified. Jane points to the living room in a sweeping motion, causing her to flinch as she stares at his hands.

"Just come with me to the living room. What's in there may be hard for you to look at, but I need you to cooperate so I can help you get out of here, okay?" There's a pause before the girl reluctantly nods. Jane smiles to her, which she, understandably, does not return. "I won't hurt you like he did," he adds quietly for good measure. "No thinking person would ever do something like that." Jane walks forward to show her she needs to start walking. It takes a few steps and some looks back to the girl to make her begin following him. Slowly, she trails Jane into the next room, her expression showing that she dreads seeing the sight that is to face her.

_'She saw the murder,' _Jane guesses. Why else would she make it obvious that she doesn't want to go into the living room?

Everyone on the team instinctively turns around when Jane enters the room, about to speak to him, but shutting their mouths when they really see what he's doing. He amusedly examines their shocked faces when they realize that they're looking at a teenage girl.

"Where did she come from?" Lisbon demands from Jane, keeping her tone calm and even as to not scare the girl.

"She was in the kitchen. I think she's our only witness. We need to bring her in." As soon as the words come out of his mouth, he regrets them. How could he be so stupid as to use those words in front of a girl who was reluctant to comply with him in the first place? The girl begins to back away with wide eyes.

"No! You're not taking me anywhere!" she exclaims in a shaking voice. Lisbon moves forward.

"No, no, you're not in trouble." The girl is still unconvinced and is looking at all the agents. Jane can practically hear her thoughts of formulating a plan of escape. Quickly, Jane puts his hand on her shoulder. She jumps, frightened by his touch. He knows that touching the physically abused girl is probably a bad idea, but he knows how convincing he can be.

"Listen to me, sweetheart," Jane begins. "We are not here to hurt you; we are here to help you. You are safe with us. We put people like him away so they can't hurt anyone else. Most times, they get away, but he's dead. He can't get away with this now." A wave of understanding flashes over the girl's face. Her expression turns serious and she nods. Still unconvinced, but she's going to cooperate.

* * *

"Name, please." The mysterious girl looks at Lisbon quizzically.

"My first, middle, and last name?" she asks. Lisbon nods silently. Jane can tell the girl is still distrustful of the team. Her reluctance is a sign of that. She doesn't seem to trust anybody.

"My name is…." She looks back to Jane before turning back and answering Lisbon. "My name is Cassandra Blaire Hale." Jane finds the name combination odd, but beautiful, just like the girl. _'She has a nickname. Some people call her… Cassie? Yep, that sounds about right.' _

"Name of your parents, please," Lisbon asks. Cassandra's face falls just a little bit at the question. Jane guesses she's an orphan that probably never knew her parents.

"I don't know," Cassandra responds quietly. Lisbon looks up from her clipboard, looking uncharacteristically sympathetic.

"How old are you, Cassandra?" she asks, sounding less and less like a police officer.

"I'm seventeen," Cassandra answers shortly.

"Were you staying with the victim?" Cassandra nods, not elaborating. Lisbon waits a few seconds. Usually, people who are being questioned have much longer alibies or clam up completely. However, Cassandra's terse responses tell Jane that she had nothing to do with the murder, which he knew even before this. She's just a scared, yet silently defiant little girl.

"Can you tell us under what circumstances you were living there?" Lisbon asks gently. Cassandra looks painfully uncomfortable with the whole process, but she cooperates with them, probably out of fear.

"He was my foster parent." Lisbon exchanges a look with Jane. The way that man lived was barely suited for one person, much less a teenager too. He was probably using her for the checks. Cassandra seems to read their minds. "He wasn't cut out for parenting at all. I would rather live on the streets than with him." Jane decides he likes this girl. She's been through hell, it's obvious to tell with one glance at her, yet she's still being the girl he can tell she is inside.

"Do you know what his name was?" Cassandra looks genuinely confused at the question. How can she not know the name of her own foster parent?

"I was only allowed to call him 'Sir'. I think his last name was…. Samson? No, Swanson? I don't know." Her frustration is evident, along with her exhaustion. Jane feels for her. Who knows the extent of what she was put through? Usually, by this time, Jane would have started grilling the interviewees with his dead-on, intrusive observations, but he stops himself this time. He can't bring himself to do that to this poor girl. She's no criminal.

Lisbon gives Cassandra an apologetic look, and Jane knows what questions she's about to ask next. When it comes to innocent victims, this is always the hardest part of the questioning to watch. Jane silently pleads with Lisbon not to ask her what they both know.

"Cassandra, I need you to be completely honest with me. We can only help you if you tell us the truth. Did your foster father ever abuse you in any way?" The tension in the air grows thick. The confident and slightly happier look on her face melts into a look of panic and sadness.

Cassandra's hands fly to her arms and she rubs up and down in a comforting motion. She looks down in shame as she nods her head silently. Jane's heart sinks. Never before has he wanted one of his guesses to be wrong more than he wanted this one to be. He knew he was right, but it hurts.

"In what ways did he abuse you?" Lisbon asks. Cassandra's gaze stays on the table.

"He hit me, kicked me, whipped me, tied me up, didn't feed me, hit me over the head with bottles, burned me with his cigarettes, and…." Cassandra shivers quietly. "He did a lot of things. Is this really needed? I think my body is evidence enough. Can we stop with these questions now?" Jane and Lisbon both cringe at the same time. It's hard to believe someone could do such terrible things to such a harmless little girl, but as they've both seen over the years, human beings are capable of some terrible things.

"I can feel your pity," Cassandra insists suddenly. Lisbon and Jane gaze at Cassandra, who's now looking at both of them. "Don't feel sorry for me. I'm alive, aren't I? Everything's just dandy…" Lisbon seems caught off guard by her sudden sarcasm. Jane, however, is greatly amused.

"Now, what did you see around the time your foster father was killed?" Cassandra runs her hand through her blonde curls and clears her throat to speak.

"I was cleaning the back room when I heard two people arguing. He never argues with his friends, so I knew it couldn't be a friend of his. This person sounded sober, with the slightest hint of a southern accent. I think he might have been from Georgia, if I have my dialect correct." Jane raises his eyebrows. This girl is one smart kid.

"I snuck over to the doorway in the kitchen so I could see what was happening. I knew it was a bad idea, but…" She shrugs. "I was curious. I saw him arguing with someone. He was so angry, like the way he gets with me before he beats me. I could tell he was about to hit whoever he was arguing with, and the man… Well, you know…" Jane assumes this is her shutting down. She doesn't want to speak about it anymore. Lisbon nods and motions to the door.

"Thanks you for your time, Cassandra. You may go." Despite the permission to finally escape the awkward situation she is obviously wishing to walk away from, she stays firmly in place, looking around nervously. "Cassandra," Lisbon begins quietly. "You can leave now."

Suddenly, without any warning, Cassandra bursts into silent tears that run down her face at a fast pace. Jane's taken aback. He has never seen anyone almost _literally_ burst into tears the way she just did. It's like a sudden waterfall. Lisbon and Jane are both caught off guard. He's never met someone so temperamental. "I d-don't have an-anywhere t-to go," she stutters in between sobs.

"The foster house?" Lisbon asks gently. Cassandra shakes her head vehemently, trying desperately to gain control of her emotions.

"Please, don't send me back to that place. They send me to people just like him. I'm not an idiot. Those people are just in it for the checks, I know that." Lisbon sighs. She has nowhere to go except the foster house, but she refuses it. Jane feels an odd sense of responsibility. He has noticed how she looks to him for comfort when she's in an uncomfortable situation, even just a slight look here and there. She doesn't fully trust him, of course, but Jane has always been the one on the team who's the best with children and teenagers. They automatically feel safer around him.

"She can live with me," he volunteers suddenly. Lisbon and Cassandra both whip their heads around after hearing his suggestion. Cassandra's look is one of relief mixed with uncertainty. Lisbon's, however, is more one of suspicion and frustration.

"Just until we decide where she goes," he adds.

"I'm not sure that's the most legal thing to do," Lisbon interjects. "The foster care system might frown upon that –"

"They don't care about me," Cassandra interrupts. "They've been tossing me around from home to home my whole life. I'm sure they don't even know that my caregiver is dead. It won't be worth their time to charge him with anything for keeping me." Jane can't suppress a smile from appearing on his face. She's defending the idea, which means that she's leaning towards going with him.

"Where do you suppose you'll let her stay? You only have the motel room and your house that you never stay in."

Jane's comeback is quick, "I still have the furniture in a storage locker downtown. All I need to do is take the furniture out and furnish the house a little, maybe clean some too." Lisbon's eyes narrow at him. She's obviously not a big fan of this idea. Heck, even Jane doesn't know why he's saying these things. For some odd reason, every fiber of his being is screaming at him to help this girl, and he's not one to ignore his instincts.

"My sister," Cassandra suddenly exclaims. Jane and Lisbon stop looking at each other and turn to Cassandra. Sister? She has a sister?

"What sister?" Jane asks.

"My foster sister," Cassandra answers. "Her name is Lydia Keesler. She's fifteen, only a few years younger than me, but I take care of her. I have been for a year. She's at a friend's house right now." Jane sighs. Just when things seemed to be settling down, there's a new complication added into the mix.

"Where can we find her?" Lisbon asks. "She's with a friend named… Lila Nelson, I think." Lisbon writes down the names quickly.

"She'll want to go back in the foster system. She still has faith in it." Cassandra sounds almost disgusted. She has clearly lost all hope in the foster system. Jane definitely can't blame her, especially when he spent some time in foster care himself. Who could believe in a system that puts people in abusive homes and dangerous situations?

"I'll find her for you," Lisbon tells Cassandra, who visibly relaxes. Lisbon looks back at Jane, nodding in Cassandra's direction.

"You can take her now." Jane walks over to Cassandra's chair and softly places his hands on her shoulders. Surprisingly, she doesn't jump or cringe away. _'Seems like we're finally making progress,' _he thinks happily. Cassandra stands up and stands next to him.

"I'm ready. Let's go."

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for reading! I'm chapters and chapters ahead of what I'm actually posting, so I doubt the time between updates will be that long.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you to Rosepeony for the review and the advice. It really helped me! And thank you to the guest reviewer, whoever you are. :) Oh, and concerning whether or not this story will have Jisbon... I'm still deciding. I know everyone loves some Jisbon, but to be honest, I used to be more of a fan of it than I am now. It's weird, I know, but I've kind of always wanted Jane to be forever alone because of his dead wife... I'm conflicted. The next few chapters will be Jisbon if you squint, but otherwise, I need to think about it...**

* * *

Jane steps aside in the doorway to reveal his once abandoned home to Cassandra. "Voila; my humble abode. Well, not really anymore, but it was once."

Cassandra ignores the introduction and looks around the house with great interest. It's rather unsettling to Jane. It's like she's reading its history with her eyes.

"Something terrible happened here, right?" she asks. "You have a great home, yet you live in a motel. No single person would live here or buy it, no more than one person would live in a motel, and you obviously don't come here often…" She wheels around to face Jane. "You had a family once." Her statement is so simple, so matter-of-fact, that it's hard to believe she's touching on a murder. "If you ignore is place like a disease and don't really bother with the upkeep, yet you still pay for it, it must mean that they died here, didn't they?"

Jane doesn't answer. Of course, his normal, snarky response would be that half an hour on the internet could give you his tragic story, but this girl's life doesn't seem to intersect with the internet. So, he just stares at her, unable to form a solid answer. Cassandra looks away in shame.

"Sorry. I do that sometimes…" Jane's interest is officially sparked.

"You do what sometimes?" he asks to encourage her.

"I make these… observations, if you will. I mean, I think they're all rather obvious, but other people don't seem to think so."

Jane's shocked. This girl who he impulsively took in has an unusual skill like his. _'Wait, wait, I don't know that for sure yet. Maybe it was a lucky guess.' _

"It's okay. Is there anything else you can guess about me?" Cassandra grins cheekily and stops to examine Jane carefully, looking up and down.

"You always wear those shoes, no matter what clothes you're wearing, you used to be on television, you cut your own hair, you're happy on the outside but a guilt-ridden mess on the inside, and…." Cassandra's lips curve into a slight smile, the first one Jane has seen from her. "You do the same thing I do." She sounds almost excited. It's not normal to find someone with their talent for reading people. With the sheltered life she was living, she probably thinks she's weird for having that skill.

"How did you know I was on television?" he asks.

"This house can't come from a consultant's salary, you have charisma, and you seem to be a very outgoing person, which is a trait amongst current and former television stars. You quit television, so you must be shy about sharing your personal life and seem to be an expert in guarding it. Your hair is very obviously cut by your own hand because of more attention paid to one side that your dominant hand would be able to reach, and your shoes are worn down at the soles with faint traces of wiped off mud on them carefully, like you care about them, not matching your suit, either, which is much too fancy for shoes like those. As for the guilt-ridden-mess part, it's in your eyes. You seem like a happy, sarcastic person most of the time, but certain triggers like the mention I made of your family make your jaw tighten and your body tense among other physical signs. Some of your personality is just a cover for your guilt and pain. You're a walking emotional mess, no offence." Jane's mouth is wide open.

"What about our, um… observational skills? How did you figure that out?" Cassandra shrugs.

"The way you looked at me seemed semi-believing, curious, amused, but not at all shocked or suspicious, like you see it every day. It's more like you live it every day." Jane must admit, this girl has talent.

"You're correct in all your statements, little lady. Now, let me show you to where you'll be staying." Jane starts to climb the stairs, beckoning for Cassandra to follow him. She does so curiously, still looking around the rather large house, studying it. Of course, Jane had picked out the guest bedroom beforehand. He isn't ready to let anyone stay in Charlotte's bedroom.

Before he brought her here, he dropped her off at a local hospital to have her checked out while he took some furniture out of the storage locker he owns. When he came back to the hospital to check on her, the doctors told him very frankly that Cassandra's state is the result of years of abuse. In the doctor's opinion, the only reason she's still alive is her determination not to die. The many beatings she has suffered could have killed her a long time ago, but she pulled through and healed over time physically until the next beating came. It was a vicious cycle. They also told him that they took a blood sample from her to determine where any biological relatives might be. The doctor's only prescription was to give her plenty of food and to give her wounds time to heal and proper attention. When he was confronted by the fact that he had no legal right to Cassandra, he merely hypnotized the poor doctor and then went about his business.

Cassandra's only response when they enter the room is to stare with her mouth wide open. The room has a good size bed, a dresser, a closet, a nightstand, and a rug. The curtains on the windows are pulled back to let the springtime light in. Jane looks at her and is alarmed to see tears running down her face for the second time that day. However, she looks less saddened than she did earlier. Now she looks relieved; happy, even.

"Are you okay, Cassandra?" Jane asks. She suddenly gasps and wipes her tears, looking ashamed of them. She wasn't even aware she was crying.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I've just never had a real room before. My room in the last foster house was a mattress in the basement that I shared with Lydia."

Jane is still disbelieving that anyone could do such things to a teenage girl, practically a child. Thinking of somebody doing those things to Charlotte sends chills up his spine. He's surprised that his reaction to Cassandra's sufferings is so similar. He wants to kill the people who hurt her and hug her until she stops feeling pain. Maybe that fatherly instinct never really went away. He's just had no one to direct it towards for all these years.

When Jane realizes that they have been standing in silence for quite a few seconds, he shifts uncomfortably.

"Well, I'll leave you to settle in. I'll take you out tomorrow to buy some new clothes. If you need any food or blankets – anything – don't hesitate to come looking for me. I'll probably be downstairs." Cassandra nods in understanding, but Jane can tell by looking in her eyes and at her ridged posture that she has no intention of coming to him if she needs anything. She still lives by the rule she was taught to believe; you take care of yourself and bother no one with your problems. Jane begins to walk out, but right before he closes the door, he turns back to her.

"I mean what I said, Cassandra. You can trust me."

Cassandra looks him dead in the eye, not even flinching. Her words make Jane flinch as though he has just been slapped in the face.

"No I can't."

* * *

Jane tosses and turns on the small bed, the only thing he had left in the house after the murder. The red smiley face above him taunts him and reminds him of his failure to protect his family. It reminds him of the greed he tried so hard to erase from his past, the greed that cost Angela and Charlotte their lives. It's a permanent decoration from Red John, meant to haunt him for years to come. Whenever he comes back home and sees the face on the wall, he ponders why two people as pure and lovely as Angela and Charlotte had to die, yet someone as manipulative and conniving as himself lived. It makes no sense. Then again, nothing in his life has ever made any sense. It made no sense why he was blessed with such an amazing wife and daughter, and it made equally little sense why they were taken from him so quickly. Jane shakes the deep thoughts out of his head. It's much easier to ignore such things.

"No! NO!"

Jane sits straight up in his bed when the screaming hits him. "Cassandra?" he shouts back with much less volume.

"No, please, no!"

On instinct, Jane jumps up out of bed and runs towards the screaming. Immediately, he swings the door of the guest room open and rushes to Cassandra's side, sitting down on the bed next to her. She's thrashing around on the bed with a pained expression on her face. Jane puts his hand on her shoulder and starts to shake her out of her nightmare.

"Cassandra, wake up. Wake up, it's only a nightmare. Cassandra…" Cassandra sits straight up in the bed quickly, breathing heavily. Sweat lines her forehead just slightly, a result of her fear. Jane is the first thing she sees when she calms down.

"Thank you…" she mumbles as she sits back down. Unconsciously, Jane is rubbing circles on her shoulder like he did when Charlotte had a nightmare. He feels an overwhelming need to comfort the girl. The Jane who cares about no one and feels little empathy for people is concerned about someone he's known for a day and let into his home. Then again, he has always had an unusual fondness for children.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Jane asks gently. Cassandra looks tempted to relieve her stress, but the walls around her are still up and shutting everyone out. Jane had those walls up before. In many ways, he still does. Knocking them down is always hard. Reluctantly, Cassandra begins to talk.

"I've had this dream ever since I was little. I'm in a big house near the ocean, sitting on a nice leather couch next to a man I guess I know somehow. We're laughing and he's playing with me. He looks like me and he's calling me a name I don't recognize and can never hear correctly. A woman with blonde hair appears too and picks me up. All I know is that I'm happy. Then, suddenly, it changes to night, and all I hear is screaming and I feel someone pick me up, but I know it's not the man or the woman. I don't know what the dream means, even now."

She brings her knees to her chest and hugs them to her, rocking back and forth ever so slightly. Jane feels utterly helpless. How can he comfort her if she won't let herself be comforted?

Nevertheless, Jane tries to get close to the skittish girl without startling her. He wraps his arm around her, but he doesn't put the full weight of his arm on her out of fear that she'll be uncomfortable with it. If Cassandra's uncomfortable, she sure doesn't show it. In fact, she leans on his shoulder and buries her face in it in obvious exhaustion.

"How often do you have these nightmares?" Jane asks her.

Cassandra ponders this over for a moment before telling him, "At least once a week, sometimes more." Jane nods in understanding. He has nightmares too. They both have their demons. Maybe she's remembering the parents she had before being placed in the foster system.

Soon, Jane hears Cassandra's breathing even out into slow, sleepy breaths. He considers extracting himself from the situation, but he doesn't want her to have the dream again, and he was getting rather comfortable. _'I might as well stay,'_ he reasons with himself. _'Just for tonight.'_ He stays until morning before slipping away, still wondering why he's being so unexplainably kind to a girl he's known for a day.

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**A/N: Disclaimer: I do not own The Mentalist or any of the characters, yada yada yada, you know how it goes. So please review and whatnot. I'll post again soon.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you to ngocquevt, Laubelle88, clairebare, and jisboncaskettdensitiva for the favorites and follows. They really mean a lot to me, you have no idea. Each one is like a nice, warm hug (yes, I'm a sap; DEAL WITH IT!)! I'm really excited that I FINALLY posted this dang story! It's fun for me to change some things while I put the chapter in doc manager. Otherwise, I'm still writing this story far ahead of what I post. I'm quite a few chapters ahead, but I will post at a constant rate so I will be one step ahead. Wow... that last sentence made me sound almost like Jane when he talks about Red John. Okay, on with the story!**

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Four days have flown by with little change from Cassandra. She's still shy, defiant and quick to scare, but her personality is showing through a little bit more. Jane can tell that if not repressed, she's a spunky, resilient smartass. He can relate to her in that way. She loves to be right and there aren't many situations where she isn't, just like him. Her observations are detailed and spot on, just like his. In fact, Cassandra is like a young, female Jane, albeit a little bit softer.

It perplexes him. For once in his life, he isn't one of a kind. It makes him wonder how many other people in the universe share his personality traits. He knows there are more mentalists in the world, but none like him and now, none like Cassandra. He may be able to see the real her underneath the cover she has put over herself, but to everyone else, she's a shy, damaged girl who's prone to outburst of sarcasm and sometimes extreme sadness.

To some, she's unusual. To Jane, she's like an interesting book. The more he gets to know about her, the more he wants to know about her.

The other breakthrough is Cassandra insisting that Jane call her by her nickname, 'Cassie', which she has used for the few friends she has had in her life. Also, despite his passive aggressive protests, Cassandra – Cassie, he reminds himself – still calls him 'Mr. Jane'. It's clear she doesn't call any adult by their first name or by anything other than 'Mr.' or 'Mrs.' or 'Sir'. Jane has tried to make it clear that he's different from all the other adults that have had her in their care, but he feels Cassie doesn't quite believe him. He knows that she's waiting for him to abuse her trust and hurt her like every other adult she's come in contact with.

She maintains a certain amount of emotional distance from him. However, whenever she has that same nightmare she had on the first night, he does the same thing; he rushes to her room and comforts her until morning. She's been having it much more than she said she usually had it. Jane suspects it's because of the change in scenery. She's adjusting.

As for her future arrangements, that has yet to be determined. Cassie is still stubbornly refusing to go anywhere near the cursed social services or to another foster house. She threatened to legally emancipate herself and go off on her own if Jane tries to send her back to the system. Of course, Jane immediately scratched that idea off the list. He doesn't want to be responsible for her homelessness or potential death. Jane holds the key in this situation. If he decides not to keep her in his home, her future is questionable, and he can't just let that happen.

Meanwhile, the team is silently freaking out over the situation. Rigsby and Cho are placing bets on how long the poor girl can last before she wants to get as far away from Jane as possible. Van Pelt finds Cassie adorable and commends Jane for doing such a thing. Lisbon still can't believe that Jane is taking her in.

Sure, he had a daughter at one point, and he's unnaturally fond of kids, but he's never gone this far for anyone before. Maybe it's her curly blonde hair, maybe it's her bluish-green eyes, or maybe it's the vulnerability covering her feisty personality that comes out when she sees something she can't keep quiet about. Something about her reminds him of his daughter, or at least the girl she could have been.

As for the case, Jane isn't putting his heart into it. He's not sorry or the least bit regretful that Gregory Swanson, as they learned his name was, is dead. He tormented poor Cassie. That being said, according to Lisbon he still has a 'right to justice' like everybody else, much to Jane's chagrin. He still has to try solving the case and acting like this man wasn't a monster that had it coming to him. Jane has no interest in finding whoever killed the creep.

Jane, like every day for the past four days, strolls into headquarters with Cassie by his side. Her tattered blue shirt and sweatpants are gone, exchanged for a simple white t-shirt, dark blue jeans and black converse shoes.

"Mornin' everyone. What a lovely morning it is, by the way. Perfect morning to solve a case, don't you think?" They all look at Jane to acknowledge his presence, but no one returns his greeting. Cassie waves to the team shyly.

"Good morning," she repeats after Jane softly. It's like a flip switches in the team as they all respond to her with smiles and a popular response of 'good morning, Cassie'. Jane gives them an incredulous look.

"What? You'll respond to her and not me?" Rigsby shrugs.

"What can I say, Jane? She's cuter." Even Jane has to admit that is true.

"And nicer," Cho adds.

As Jane opens his mouth to speak, Van Pelt puts in for good measure, "Maybe she's even smarter."

Jane throws his hands up in defeat. "I get it, you guys really like Cassie. Doesn't everyone?" Cassie's cheeks turn a deep pink at the compliment. There's no doubt she's not used to it. Jane thinks that she should be complimented more. She definitely deserves it.

"Jane," Lisbon calls from across the room. Jane's still smiling when he looks at her, but her expression wipes it right off his face. She looks serious, put together, but extremely concerned and disturbed. She's never looked quite like that. The first thought that comes in his head is that Red John did something, but he knows that it's not that. She doesn't look quite like she does when something's Red John related. She'd look more sympathetic and saddened.

"Yes, Lisbon?" he responds calmly. She nods to her office.

"We need to talk in private for a few minutes." Jane nods and follows her. Cassie stays behind, thankfully, but she looks as suspicious as Jane feels. As soon as Jane is in close proximity to Lisbon's office, she puts her hand on his back and shoves him in quickly. When he stumbles and grabs ahold of her chair, Lisbon shuts the door behind them.

"What's this about?" Jane demands. He's never seen her quite this frantic and it concerns him. "Lisbon, calm down-"

Lisbon cuts him off, "No, Jane, I have my reasons. Just hear me out, okay?" Jane sits down on the chair without another word, waiting for Lisbon's explanation for her agitated state. She's still pacing back and forth, just barely stopping herself by placing her hand on her desk and gripping it tightly.

"I got a call this morning," she states flatly. Jane raises his eyebrows.

"Oh, really?" Lisbon nods, ignoring his sarcasm.

"It was from the Sacramento Municipal Hospital that you dropped Cassie off at yesterday. They couldn't get ahold of you, so they decided to call me because I'm your boss and they figured I would be the most likely to see you next. They told me put her DNA and finger prints through the system and searched for her by name and by other means. The good news is she has no criminal record that we know of, but…" She trails off. Jane urges her to go on, but Lisbon just sighs.

"Jane… according to the government, Cassandra Blaire Hale doesn't exist."

Jane doesn't know what to say. How is that possible? She's so honest, so pure, that he finds it totally unbelievable that she would lie to them about something so big. Sure, she'd be capable of lying if she so desired; she knows what things to look out for so she won't seem like a liar. But Jane knows she wouldn't do that. He just does. By this time, he feels as though he knows her well enough.

"Are they sure that she doesn't exist?" Jane asks quietly. Lisbon sighs.

"Unless she's a sixty year old woman or was tried in the Salem witch trials, then no." Jane laughs mirthlessly and shakes his head.

"You never know. Those witches are sneaky." Lisbon returns the laugh and they sit in silence for a few minutes, ruminating on their next move.

"Should we call Cassie in here?" Lisbon asks. Jane doesn't hesitate to nod.

"She's the only one who could possibly know who she really is." Jane walks to the door and opens it, peering her head out.

"Cassie, could you come in here please?" She gets up from the couch where she was sitting with Van Pelt and walks into the office as asked. Her happy-go-lucky, slight smile fades when she sees the look on both Lisbon and Jane's faces.

"Something's wrong," Cassie says softly. Jane isn't even sure if that's the right word to describe it. Her voice in general is soft.

"Cassie, is there something about yourself you haven't told us?" Lisbon asks. Cassie shakes her head.

"No." Jane senses she's telling the truth.

"Your name isn't in the system, Cassie. You don't have a birth certificate or anything saying that you even exist." She doesn't have a suspect's pale face or realization that they've been put in a corner. Instead, she looks genuinely confused.

"But, I don't understand…" she whispers.

"Neither do we," Jane states bluntly.

"Is there any chance that isn't your real name?" Lisbon asks. Cassie shrugs.

"It's the first name I went by when I got in the foster house. I was young and remembered nothing about the early part of my childhood. Apparently, I had suffered a head injury and never recovered the memory I lost because of it. The only thing I remember is that I was carried to a forest and dropped there. Then there's a whole section of time that's too blurry to make out. After that, I remember being in a social services building and being told what my name and age was. Nothing else."

Jane and Lisbon exchange a look. They both know Cassie isn't guilty of anything now, but why would they give her a completely random name? The foster system doesn't have the power to do that.

"So you don't know who you are," Lisbon sates. Cassie suddenly glares at Lisbon. It's one of her infamous mood swings. She's happy once second, sad the next, and then angry the next. Being a long-term victim of abuse, she's quite easily set off.

"I don't know my birth name or the first half of my childhood, but I know who I am, no matter what my name is. I'll always know who I am." Jane can't help but admire her for that statement. There are days when he doesn't even know who he really is, yet this courageous girl who has survived so much in her short life can say proudly that she knows who she really is. She's a strong willed girl, despite how complicated she is.

"Is there any way to find out my name or my birth parents?" she asks hopefully. Jane looks down to his feet, unable to meet her eyes as he answers.

"There's not much we can do about that." Cassie's face falls for a few seconds, but she recovers quickly, putting on a blank, emotionless face.

"I understand," she responds flatly. Without another word from anyone, she turns and starts to walk out of the office. Right before exiting, she stops dead in her tracks, turning her head just slightly to address Jane and Lisbon.

"There IS something that I've kept to myself, because I'm not sure if it's fact or fiction, but… I think I was kidnapped after witnessing…. After witnessing my mother's murder."

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**A/N: Sorry it was shorter than I usually post! That was a good stopping point, much better than my previous, super long one. As always, please review, favorite, follow and all that good stuff. See ya next time! :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: It's been really fun writing this story! I'm still far ahead of what I'm posting, but I like it that way. Maybe that's the way I'll do all my stories from now on. As for why I've been absent so long (well, long for ME), I have to admit, the sudden death of Cory Monteith depressed me. I've never been a fan of his and never watched 'Glee' a day in my life (I'll admit that I started to watch it after he died because I wanted to know what I was missing), but it's sad when ANYONE dies, especially someone who's only 31 and had a lot to live for. So, sorry for being kind of MIA, but I was just gathering my thoughts about that for a few days. On top of that, my stupid computer decided to get a virus, so I wasn't able to use it for three or four days., which is a lot for someone who has EVERYTHING on MicrosoftWord and NOTHING written down by hand. Technology is frustrating :(**

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The day was over quickly with no new leads on the case. Jane, however, would not let Cassie's earlier statement go. As soon as he was given permission to leave, he dragged Cassie back home and sat her down on the nice leather couch he just recently put back in his living room. Sitting down on the coffee table in front of the couch facing her, he puts his hands together and looks at her seriously while noting her lack of concentration. Intelligent people do get bored quite easily, and she's no exception.

"Cassie, I want you to explain to me very carefully what makes you think you saw your mother murdered and were taken after." Cassie sighs and sets her chin down in her hands.

"The memory has been getting clearer and clearer ever since I came here, I guess because I'm not in immediate danger anymore. I can see it in my mind. The vision starts, and I'm in a room I assume is my bedroom, laying in a bed. Then, I hear screaming; terrible, gut-wrenching screaming. I hide under my bed and, for some reason, I begin to wonder where 'Mommy' is. The screaming continues for a while until it stops completely. A few minutes pass in silence, the only sound being my heavy breathing. Before I know it, someone is pulling me out from under the bed and holding me up by my feet. It's a man in a mask. I can see a weapon of some sorts in his pocket. He swings me over his shoulder and starts to carry me out of the house while I scream for my mom. That's where it ends."

Jane's blood runs cold. The story is eerily similar to what he imagines Charlotte experienced that night. Suddenly, the thought occurs to Jane that maybe her mother was a Red John victim. It's entirely possible. Most of his victims were female, and he's almost positive that there could be victims that weren't killed the traditional way, meaning he has never heard of them. Besides, Red John never killed a child before his daughter. If he found a reason to kidnap a child, he probably found a means to cover up her disappearance.

Jane gets off the table and sits down on the couch next to Cassie, taking her hands in his. She looks down at their hands, but she makes no attempt to shy away from his hold on her. It's the little things like this that make Jane think that he's making progress with her and that one day, maybe she'll trust him for more reasons than just because she's required to at certain moments.

"Cassie, I promise you that I'll do everything in my power to find out who your parents were and where you came from." He's rewarded with a dazzling smile from a suddenly happy Cassie.

"Thank you, Mr. Jane." Unable to find the heart to ask her not to call him 'Mr. Jane' anymore, he instead makes the bold move of leaning forward to hug her. Jane can't think of the last time he hugged someone for the reason other than bugging them, pick-pocketing them or planting something on them. Now, he's doing it solely to comfort the person he's hugging. Cassie is hugging him back, completely relaxed into his hold. Jane can't believe it. Just yesterday, she looked away from him when he smiled at her, and now she's returning a hug. She's really unpredictable.

When she stiffens, he begins to think he overstepped his boundaries.

"I know this scene," she croaks out, sounding alarmed. "This is the couch from my dream."

"The dream you keep on having?" Jane asks her. She nods frantically, patting the couch.

"I swear it's the same couch." Jane slowly shakes his head.

"It's not possible, Cassie. I've had this couch longer than you've been alive. It's probably the same type of couch and manufacturer, but it's not the same exact couch." Cassie looks at him thoughtfully. He can see a gleam in her eyes that tell him she still feels like she could be right. It's the look he gets in his eyes when he becomes determined to prove himself right, also. She wants to be right, and she won't stop until she's proved right.

"Is there a chunk missing from the bottom?" she asks with her eyebrows raised. Jane leans in closer.

"Come again?" Cassie points to the left cushion.

"Is there a hole in the bottom of that cushion? In my dream, sometimes I'll flip it up and be amused by the fact that it has a hole. Ah, the things that entertain an eight year old."

Jane looks at her questioningly. "How do you know you were eight?" Cassie merely shrugs.

"I just know. Now, could you flip up that cushion, please?" She crosses her arms expectantly and waits for him to comply. Jane places his fingers on the outer edges of the seat nervously. If she's correct, he doesn't know what he'll do or what he'll be forced to believe. What a surprise. The skeptic master of manipulation doesn't know what he'll believe.

Slowly, Jane flips the leather cushion over, looking in the other direction just slightly so he doesn't have to look at it. He's almost afraid to see the results. He doesn't even need to look, though. Cassie's gasp tells all.

Sure enough, when he looks down, there's a medium sized hole in the smooth leather.

Jane's out of explanations. Cassie hasn't been down in the living room without him and there's no way she could have known about the hole otherwise. Besides, what would her motive be? Is she trying to mess with his head? Is she playing a game with him? Jane shakes the thoughts away. She's a good girl; she wouldn't do that to him.

"Maybe you were one of my client's kids?" Jane guesses quietly. He usually _states_ things like this, but this time it's just a guess. It's the only route he can think to take now that makes any sense. Looking up at him with her big eyes, Cassie shrugs indifferently.

"Yeah… maybe. On the bright side, we're one step closer to finding out who my parents were. Do you still have a client list?" Jane nods, making Cassie smile.

"Good. I think I'm just going to go take a nap. I didn't get much sleep last night because… well, you know…" Jane just nods and gently helps her up. She woke up screaming again last night, once again seeking out Jane's comfort. For some reason, she was unable to fall back asleep, despite having no problem with it on previous nights. Cassie jogs ups the stairs and to her room, leaving Jane alone with his thoughts.

His life hasn't been exactly normal since this mysterious girl has come into his life. Sure, it hasn't seemingly changed all that drastically, but to him, being so open and kind to someone he barely knows is a new feeling. He keeps on telling himself that it's because he's being fatherly and she's a child, as he always bonds with children wherever he goes, but he knows he's lying to himself. He feels a strange attachment for her. Maybe it's to replace his daughter…

Jane shakes the thought out of his head, disgusted by the mere mention of it. No one could ever replace Charlotte in his heart, but this girl acts so much like he imagines she would! She has a quiet side like Angela, and a total smartass, observant side like Jane. She even looks like his Charlotte... Suddenly, a rouge thought pops into his head. It's a long shot, nearly impossible, but he can't shake away how _right_ it feels.

Jane can't take it anymore, so he does what he usually does on the few occasions when he doesn't know what to do; he picks up his phone and calls Lisbon, the person he would consider his best friend were he forced to choose one. His foot taps during each dial tone, feeling impatient. He wants to get something off his chest, something no one except him knows. It's something he feels he should have told Lisbon, of all people, a long time ago. It's something that will change everything, whether this turns out like he thinks it might or not. Maybe Lisbon will lose her trust for him, but so be it. If he doesn't tell her now, he never will. He's kept this secret for so long that he almost believes the lie he uses to cover it. But there will be no more lying, no more keeping secrets, not from Lisbon. He has to tell her everything.

_"Jane? You just left, what did you forget?" _

Lisbon's voice is a comfort to him. He knows there's someone he can talk to. She's a good friend to turn to.

"I didn't forget anything this time. Lisbon, I have something really, really important I never told you, or anybody, for that matter, and I need to get it off my chest. I'm going to be blunt about it, okay?"

After he finishes his mini-rant, he waits for a response.

_"Umm… okay. What is it?"_ Jane heaves in a giant breath and lets it out before continuing.

"I lied to you and everyone else about the circumstances surrounding my family's deaths, and believe me, I had to pull a lot of strings to cover it up. I found my wife's body first, in our bedroom so I searched for my daughter's but…" He pauses, not sure how he's going to tell Lisbon in a way that won't shock her too severely.

"It… It wasn't there."

Lisbon doesn't make a sound, so Jane decides to go on. After all, the worst of the explanation is over.

"She wasn't in my bedroom or hers or any guest bedrooms or bathrooms or even anywhere on the entire property. Red John left another note in her room saying he had her and was deciding what to do with her, but if the public knew in any way of this, she would be killed on the spot. The photos and case files were faked and the top guys money could buy were working on the case. I kept it a secret. As far as everyone was concerned, she was dead. I even had her death certificate made. After a few months, I got a letter from him in which he… alluded to the fact that he had killed her. I stopped the search because I was convinced she was dead. Besides, I was already on the verge of that breakdown I told you about…"

There is silence on the other end of the phone for what feels like hours, but is only a few seconds.

_"Jane…. I'm so sorry…" _Jane cuts her off before she can continue pitying him.

"I'm not calling just to tell you this out of the blue. I'm calling because of some incidents going on lately."

_"What incidents?" _Lisbon asks him. Obviously, she hasn't been noticing what he has. No one besides him seems to notice.

"It's Cassie, Lisbon. She knows things that she couldn't know unless she knew me before, like the state of my furniture and home. Her nightmares include her mother being murdered and her being taken away. She dreams of two people who look eerily similar to my wife and me. She's got curly blonde hair and bluish-green eyes. She's so vulnerable at times, yet so sarcastic and observant. Cassandra Hale isn't her real name. She has no memory before the age of eight. Do you see where I'm going with this, Lisbon?" Does he have to spell it out for her?

_"Jane… do you think she could be your daughter?" _

Jane feels like he must choose his words carefully. Does he really believe she's Charlotte? He's such a skeptic that his good senses tell him that Charlotte's most likely dead. Then again, Red John loves to play games. If she had been killed, he probably would have sent him on some kind of sick scavenger hunt for her body instead of letting him have a tiny glimmer of hope live inside him, no matter how small. So, Jane goes with his gut and answers honestly.

"Yes, I think Cassie just might be Charlotte." There's another silence on the other end of the phone. _'She doesn't believe me,' _Jane thinks sadly. Then again, who would? He probably just sounds like a grieving father who only wants to believe in something completely ridiculous.

_"I think you might be right." _Jane can't believe his ears. Lisbon doesn't think he's crazy? Then again, she knows he's usually right in his hunches. If he's having one this strong, how could he be wrong?

"I can't be sure yet. I'll take a paternity test. The local hospital already has her blood sample in their system." Neither of them speaks anymore. What is there to say? Wordlessly, they both hang up at the same time. Jane sighs heavily and reclines back on the couch. The weight of the world is no longer on his shoulders. At the same time, he feels like it's slowly coming back. He has a girl in his house who shares his abilities, may or may not be his daughter, and has visions of her mother's murder. It's safe to say he has a lot to deal with right now.

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**A/N: So, is she really his daughter, or is Red John playing a trick on everyone? I won't tell. Find out for yourself! Please REVIEW, FAVORITE, FOLLOW and all that good stuff. See you next time!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: So, when I went on vacation, my parents neglected to tell me that I couldn't bring my laptop because they know how much I write. I'm pretty sure that I went through writing withdrawal in the past week. But, that makes my comeback that much sweeter!**

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Three days fly by quickly. Cassie's adjusting nicely, but the murder case is pretty much a dead end, even with Cassie's statement. There are no suspects or places to begin searching. Gregory Swanson was a reclusive drunk. He barely even went out in public, and even then he kept to himself. There are no suspects to question. There are barely any leads to follow.

Besides that, Jane and Lisbon have been on edge lately while waiting for the test results, which are due back any day now. It's an ever expanding secret that they're keeping from everyone. Cassie has no idea what's going on, and they don't plan on telling her unless the tests come back positive, which is Jane's deepest desire.

Jane and Lisbon have been their own team since this started. They rely on each other for moral support now that their keeping a secret this big from their team-mates. Lisbon remains the only person he has ever told about Charlotte being alive. He trusts her more than ever now, and her him.

Jane has been secretly excited at the possibility of getting part of his life back. Looking back at some of the fond memories he has of his darling daughter, the idea of her being alive makes him positively ecstatic. Though he was broken up over his wife's death, he was even more so over the loss of his daughter. No father should ever have to outlive their child. He felt she had been cheated out of such a promising life. She was only eight years old, hardly near any of the milestones Jane thought her life would hold.

He mourned the girl who would never go to high school, the girl who would never have her first date, the girl who would never go to college or get married and have children of her own. Now there's a chance she wasn't cheated out of a life and a chance that the guilt Jane suffers can ease up a tiny bit. Then again, the life Cassie's been living so far is hardly a pleasant one and she _was_ cheated out of a normal childhood so far. But that doesn't matter to Jane. It doesn't make her any less of a person. He can help make up for that and make her forget her troubled past.

Lisbon speaking his name snaps Jane out of his reverie quickly, transferring his full attention to Lisbon.

"Um, yes?" Lisbon sighs and shakes her head at him.

"Do you even listen to me?" she asks.

Jane shrugs nonchalantly. "Sometimes I listen, but as soon as you start saying something boring, I block it out." Lisbon just rolls her eyes and throws a case file down on Jane's lap.

"Study Swanson's cases file and see if anything pops out to you. I just don't know what we're missing." Jane picks it up like it's filth in his hands and reluctantly opens it up. He feels someone's stare piercing him and realizes he forgot Cassie is here, sitting next to him on his couch. He looks back at her, but she doesn't look away. She stares back at him unapologetically, even less shy than a small child would be if caught staring. This girl is odd, and he likes it.

"Have you ever considered it might be some fellow scumbag he met while getting his drugs that murdered him?" she asks. Jane looks over at her, shocked.

"Drugs? What drugs?" Cassie raises her eyebrows as if to say 'You really didn't know that?'

She sighs and goes on, "He liked drugs a lot, it seemed. I don't know what type, but whatever it was, it was hard. When he didn't have enough money for a new stash, I knew it because that was when he was the most violent with my foster sister and me. I think his stash was gone when he died. You could just tell."

Jane's dumbfounded. How did he miss the fact that the man was a druggie? Oh yeah, he was distracted by the girl at the scene, hiding in a cabinet. A man of that reclusiveness would have a specific dealer due to trust issues, definitely not a high class one, either, considering his lack of money.

He can't think straight because he still can't believe that Cassie caught onto something that even he didn't.

"You're one of the only witnesses we've had that I've ever really liked," Jane tells her on a whim. Cassie smirks and shrugs slightly.

"I do what I can." The two laugh lightly in unison, and Jane gives her his signature disarming smile. If she turns out not to be his daughter, Jane knows he'll be devastated beyond belief. She's such a perfect teenager, just the right balance of sarcastic and sweet, with just a smidge of weirdness and a miniscule dash of charisma in her that only he can notice. He wants her to be his daughter so much that it hurts.

Cho walks in the room with a piece of paper from the case file Jane has in his lap. "Jane, get up. We have a new lead from one of Swanson's drinking buddies." Jane lazily gets up off his couch, bringing the case file with him.

"Who's gonna stay here and look after Cassie?" Jane asks with genuine concern lacing his tone. Rigsby raises his hand.

"I'll do it. Cassie is good company. Besides, Grace needs some time in the field." Jane doesn't miss Van Pelt's blush when she hears this. It's obvious to everyone that Rigsby is in love with Van Pelt. Well, it is to everybody except Van Pelt herself, who remains oblivious to his continuing feelings, or so they all think.

"I'll see you later, Cassie," Jane calls as he leaves with Cho and Van Pelt. This causes Van Pelt to look at him quite oddly, but with a small smirk on her lips.

"What?" Jane asks. Van Pelt looks away and shakes her head.

"It's nothing. You just seem really attached to Cassie, that's all."

Jane considers it for a few seconds. He usually doesn't let people see his emotion like that, but obviously Van Pelt has seen through him. If she has, then the rest of the team must have. He feels his usual urge to lie to her, like he does everybody. Like he has said before, the truth is his. He doesn't need to tell anybody else, but if Cassie is in fact his daughter, they'll find out soon enough.

"She seems like the type of girl I like to think my daughter would have been had she lived," Jane tells her quietly, giving her at least a half truth. Van Pelt's smirk fades, replaced by a look of absolute sympathy.

"Jane…" He holds up his hand as a sign for her to stop.

"It's okay. I _am_ getting pretty close to her. She's just so lovable, I guess." Van Pelt and Cho seem to nod their heads in mutual agreement. Cassie is an easy girl to get along with, despite her quirks. _'She must have more of Angie in her,' _Jane thinks to himself sarcastically.

He's been referring to her like he knows she's positively his daughter. Well, a part of him does know. He can't explain how, but something just tells him that she must be. His instincts usually don't lie, right? That must be a good sign. Still, he's a skeptic. He's prepared for disappointment. He just hopes it doesn't come to that.

* * *

The shady street in which they park their car gives Jane a bad feeling. He can already tell it's a hotspot for drug dealers judging by the much too casual look on everybody's face when they see them get out of the car. Most people would look at least mildly interested as to why there's a very official looking vehicle in their neighborhood. Even without uniforms, drug dealers and buyers know who the cops are. _'Well, them and carnies,' _Jane reminds himself. He cringes at the reminder of his previous life. The only perk was meeting Angela and escaping the carnival atmosphere with her…. Jane forces himself to stop thinking of his past and focuses on the task ahead.

A specific group of young-ish boys catches Jane's attention. Their ridged posture and desperate attempts to relax give them away as drug dealers. However, most everyone in this neighborhood is probably a drug dealer, so that doesn't really narrow it down to whom Swanson was getting his drugs from. From what Jane absorbed on the way over, one of Swanson's drinking buddies tipped the CBI off that Swanson is often around this street, but he was not sure from whom he was buying drugs. The tip was only slightly helpful, as Jane knows no one's going to fess up.

Van Pelt is the first to approach, rather dauntlessly. The first thing she gets in response is a crude wolf-whistle from one of the men. As usual, she just rolls her eyes at it. Flirtation from suspects is normal for female agents. Van Pelt, being one of the only two females on the team, is quite used to it by now.

"Listen up," Van Pelt starts. "We're not here to bust you on anything. We just want to know if any of you have heard of Gregory Swanson. He was found dead and we want some information about him." They all look at each other, and Jane knows their answer before they open their mouths.

"Maybe we have, maybe we haven't," the ring leader replies coyly. Cho and Van Pelt exchange a look before walking up to him and him only.

"We're going to need to question you, sir," Cho tells him. The boy shakes his head with a huge grin still on his face.

"You can't do that. I haven't done nothin'." Cho flashed him his badge.

"It doesn't matter. We have a right to question you whenever we want. This is a murder investigation. Now, you can either do it here, or we can take you downtown." Now a little less confident, he still makes no move to follow them.

Cho impatiently grabs his shoulder and hurries him to the car they came in, leaning him against it. He's still shaking his head and protesting.

"Why should I tell you anything? You got nothin' on me." Jane takes this as his cue to step up.

"I'll make you a deal, my friend. If you tell us the truth about Gregory Swanson, we won't take you in for the drugs you have there in your pocket. Now how does that sound?" The suspect shifts uncomfortably in his spot.

"Wh-What makes you think I got drugs?" Jane scoffs, as if the question is an insult to his intelligence.

"Please. You're leaning towards one side to conceal the left pocket and your hand has yet to even come close to touching it once. You basically had a heart attack when you saw us and your eyes opened wider for a split second when you heard Swanson's name. I could go on." That's all it takes for Cho to search his pockets. Sure enough, he pulls out a bag of a rather suspicious white powder. The drug dealer opens his mouth to say something, probably an excuse, but Jane stops him.

"I beg of you, keep a small shred of your dignity and don't come up with some pathetic excuse." His mouth shuts as quickly as it opened.

"Now, let's try this again. Why do you know Gregory Swanson?" The dealer looks over to where his friends were, but they have now vacated the scene. Cops are cops, whether or not they have your friend.

He sighs heavily and narrows his eyes at the agents in disgust. "He was a client of mine. Happy?" Jane shakes his head.

"Nope. Swanson didn't have enough money for cocaine, which I assume is what that powder is. He must have been a friend of a friend. Am I right? You hooked him up because he was connected to someone, someone you knew, probably someone powerful." The man stares at Jane in shock.

"Wow. You're good." Jane gives a satisfied nod.

"Yes, I am. Who was Swanson connected to?" The drug dealer shrugs exasperatedly, stuttering on his words.

"I-I don't know. He called himself Ray. He was Swanson's friend from Social Services. When Swanson needed some cash, he hooked him up with a few foster kids."

Jane's blood runs cold. So, this is how Cassie ended up in a living hell, all because a man wanted more money for drugs. It's such a cruel twist of fate. Out of all the kids he could have picked, he picked Cassie to give to him. If he hadn't done that, Jane would have never met her. The situation seems to be too much of a coincidence, in fact. They need to talk to this 'Ray' person.

"Why were you scared of him?" Jane asks. He's obviously scared; otherwise he wouldn't swallow his pride and give his stash to someone for less money. The drug dealer shakes his head, his eyes wide.

"You don't know this guy, man. He's crazy, man. If you screw up, you're dead and they'll _never_ catch him for it. You don't wanna make him angry, dude." That's all he needed to hear.

Jane starts to walk away with his goal in mind, seemingly unconcerned with Cho and Van Pelt, who are staring at the back of his head quizzically. The puzzle pieces are connecting in his mind, and all he needs to finish it is the result of that damn paternity test.

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**A/N: Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to fall asleep in my soft, cozy bed instead of the one I was sleeping in while on vacation that felt like a park bench. See ya later!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you all so much for reading this story thus far! I know some people only seem to read Jisbon (I agree with Simon Baker; that ship name is all kind of wrong) fluff, but I hope people broaden their horizons. I'd like to thank Inesfb, n'ka'k, Laubelle88, ilovestoriesandfanfics, LittleX, Ravendust6, wisegirl71301, MartyMac49, TARDIS-follower, clairebare, jisboncaskettdensitiva, and ngocquevt for the favorites and follows! And a response to the reviews...**

**wisegirl71301 - Well, maybe she is, maybe she isn't... *evil smirk***

**MartyMac49**** - Awww, thanks! *blush* I know, Jane's on an emotional roller coaster right now, which is saying something for Jane. As to who Ray is... Well, all I have to say is read.**

** joan. goldman .9 (I know you don't have spaces, but it keeps deleting your username, soooo...)**** - Yeah, I'm sure he misses her. And if you don't mind my asking, I thought you were strictly a Hollywood Heights person? ;)**

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Jane never thought the day would come where he actually shared his beloved couch, but here he is, lounging next to Cassie on his comfy, leather seat. He would never refuse her a seat on the couch. How could he deny that girl anything? Besides, she has really taken a liking to that old couch, just like him. At one point, she even fell asleep with her head on his shoulder. He stayed still, but relaxed against her, smiling slightly. Rigsby and Van Pelt took amusement in the scene and both found it way too adorable. Jane was surprised they didn't take pictures. Maybe they did. He was too busy looking at Cassie to notice.

Now she sits on the end, her knees brought to her chest with a book laying on it as she reads. Jane glances at the title. She's reading _'To Kill a Mockingbird'_, obviously from Cho's personal shelf. She seems engrossed in it, flipping page after page and smiling periodically, sometimes frowning deeply during what he assumes are more serious parts.

He's not surprised that she's intelligent, despite having little schooling. Her mind is a steel fortress, just like his. She's a rather bright girl. _'If she really is Charlotte, I guess I have to start thinking about enrolling her in school.'_ Jane had never thought about that before. From what she's told him, she only went to school a few times a month, but she always showed up at the end of the year to take the standardized test, which she always aced. Therefore, she was never held back.

Swanson had kept her out of school from day one, but she snuck out on the last day of school to take the test, not wanting to be held back. Everyone in school already knew she was probably abused in some way, but her malnourished, bruise-riddled, diminutive form was cause for some staring. She has not been back to school since then.

Jane suddenly becomes aware of how long he's been staring at Cassie. She's still buried in her book, blissfully unaware of his interest in her, but Cho and Rigsby have taken notice of Jane's study of her and are looking at him oddly and curiously. When Jane gives them a glare, something he doesn't give out that much, they go back to working like they saw nothing.

Rigsby takes a break from his computer to address Jane and Cho. He isn't as good on a computer as Van Pelt, but he's still better than Jane, who hates technology.

"I looked into this 'Ray' character you two told me about. According to Social Services, they can't pinpoint who he is. They don't even think he works for them." Cho sighs in frustration, while the gears in Jane's mind are turning. So, this 'Ray' is just a clever ruse, a disguise. He's obviously smart enough not to leave a trail. Trying to track him would be a dead end. It's probably not even worth it.

"Jane," Lisbon calls from her office. He whips his head around.

"Yes, Lisbon?" She signals to her desk.

"You have a call." Jane can tell by the little nervousness in her voice that this is it, this is the moment he's been both dreading and longing for. They're being called by the hospital staff about the paternity test. Taking one final look at the distracted Cassie, he walks into the office quickly, closing the door behind him and taking the phone from Lisbon.

"Hello, Patrick Jane speaking," he greets.

"Mr. Jane, this is the staff at the Sacramento Municipal Hospital calling about the results of the paternity test taken by you and a Miss Cassandra Hale."

Jane hates these calls where the person breaking the news sounds so formal and impersonal. They hold his future in their hands, so they could at least be a little less clipped. "What were the results?" Jane asks with all his strength. He feels like he might faint right this second. He's on edge like never before.

"Well, we reviewed your DNA next to hers and determined that… Sorry, let me take a look at the file." Jane feels as though he may scream. Those incompetent hospital workers… The least they could do is be a bit more prepared before calling him.

"Ah, here it is. We have determined that you are, without a reasonable doubt, Cassandra Hale's biological father."

Jane can't help his smile from reaching ear to ear. His heart soars and he feels like bursting into tears right at that moment. _'My Charlie's alive! My baby girl is alive!'_ Jane feels so overwhelmed that it's hard to breathe, but in the best possible way. How is such a miracle even possible?

"Oh, thank you. Thank you so much," He gushes to the caller. He promptly hangs up, not bothering to wait for a response. Turning to Lisbon, he throws his arms open, tears just barely stinging the corners of his eyes.

"Lisbon, give me a hug. We have reason to celebrate." Lisbon stands up slowly as she grins herself.

"Cassie is actually…" Jane nods his head vigorously. "Yes, Cassandra Blaire Hale is actually Charlotte Anne Jane. My daughter is sitting in the room next to us. Can you believe it?" The two hug in joy. They have kept their suspicions a secret since they started, and now they know they were right in them. Their little secret paid off.

"I can't believe this," Jane states quietly, feeling so much joy and shock all at once. "I spent all these years mourning her, visiting the grave I knew was empty and crying for her. The only hope I had was that maybe I'd find her body one day and give her a proper burial. Come to find out, she's been living with me for a week, almost two weeks and I didn't even know it." Suddenly, Jane feels overcome with emotion that just hits him like a brick wall. He has to sit down in Lisbon's chair to recover.

He has sorely missed being a father for all these years. He remembers all those times he tucked her into bed, told her stories from his carny days, bonded with her over ice cream, and helped her learn how to do things like swim and ride a bike. Though some people might argue that Patrick Jane is not a warm and caring person, those people were always proved wrong as soon as they saw him with his daughter. He was like a different person with her. Naturally, the day her mother died and she went missing was the absolute worst day of his life, bar none. He just can't believe that the girl he shared all those memories with and loved with every bit of his heart is in the next room, idly reading a book, unaware that Jane is anything but her current caregiver.

"How do I tell her?" Jane asks Lisbon, sounding similar to a scared child. She raises her eyebrows at him.

"You have your daughter back and you're asking _me_ how to tell her? I thought you of all people would be all over that." Jane shrugs, playing coy.

"I mean, I only knew her for the first eight years of her life, which she doesn't even remember. I don't know how to break it to her that her whole life has been a lie and that she's been living with her biological father for weeks now." That's a thought. How would she react to finding out she isn't even who she thinks she is? How will she take the news that she's not Cassandra Blaire Hale, but instead Charlotte Anne Jane?

"Should I tell her today?" Jane asks. Lisbon shrugs, not sure which answer will be satisfactory for him.

"I can't see why not. She's in a good mood, and nothing much has happened today. You could use the room where we question our suspects. I'll give you two some privacy." Jane nods, suddenly feeling a bit nauseated. Who in their lives ever encounters a situation like this? Oh yeah, him, that's who.

"Cassie?" he calls as he leaves Lisbon's office. She pops her head up from her book with a questioning glance.

"Yes, Mr. Jane?" Jane's mouth goes dry, suddenly making a response hard. What a sight; Patrick Jane is at a loss for words. Quick, someone get a camera!

"Umm, uh, come with me please." Her air-tight instincts make her suspicious, and she takes a moment to narrow her eyes at him, but of course, he expected that. She's her father's daughter, all right. Jane leads her to the interrogation room, sitting her down on the chair, but not sitting down himself. She looks rather nervous to be back in this depressing room again. Jane doesn't like this room himself, but that's not why he's so scared.

"You look nervous. Did you find out another thing about me that I don't know?" she asks hesitantly. A light bulb goes off in Jane's mind. This is the perfect introduction to his announcement. Instead of giving it to her all at once, he can work his way up to it as to not overwhelm her.

"In fact, yes I did. I know who you really are now. I've found your identity." Cassie's jaw drops open, along with her eyes widening. She stares at Jane's irises, checking for a sign of deception.

"Really? Who am I? Do you know who my parents are? Do you know where I'm from? Why do _you_ know and I don't?" Her questions come spewing out one by one with just as much energy and curiosity as the last.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down. I'll tell you." Cassie shuts her mouth, waiting for the eagerly anticipated news.

Jane heaves in a giant breath and releases it. It's time. He could only avoid it for so long. "Your name is Charlotte, and your middle name is Anne," he sates quietly. "You're from the Malibu area. Your mother's name was Angela. She was blonde like you, but she had brown eyes and straight hair. You look like your dad. He has curly blonde hair and your eyes. You were taken by a serial killer named Red John when you were eight years old. Your mother was…." Jane pauses. Even after all these years, accepting Angela's fate is hard. "She was killed by Red John." Cassie sits, taking it all in, looking relieved and over-stimulated by all the new things she's learning about herself.

"You're hiding something," she says simply, quietly. He tilts his head, smirking ever so slightly.

"Why do you say that?" She looks up, revealing the tears forming in her eyes, but she also looks determined, almost angered at the thought of him hiding things from her.

"You won't tell me my last name, my mother's last name, or any part of my father's name, yet you say I look like him. And you refer to him in the present tense. My mother's death seems personal to you because you paused like you needed to gather yourself together…." Her eyes widen as she realizes the truth. She looks at Jane for confirmation.

"Please don't make me guess," she pleas in a whisper. "Tell me yourself. I don't want to play this game."

Jane takes her hand in his and whispers back, "Your full name is Charlotte Anne Jane, your mother's name was Angela Ruskin Jane, and your father's name is Patrick Jane. He has missed you more than you could ever imagine and is ecstatic that you're alive and have been living with him for a little while now."

Cassie's tears are now flowing down her cheeks as she looks at her newfound father. Jane feels a similar sense of emotion well up inside his chest, threatening to spill over. The love is overflowing from him. He could not ask for a sweeter reunion.

"You're my dad?" she asks in a shaky voice, though he's sure she already knows the answer.

"Yes," he says back happily. "I'm your dad." Any resolve either had to stay clam breaks at that very moment. Without warning, Cassie gets out of her seat and launches herself at Jane, wrapping her arms around his neck in a fierce hug. Something awakens inside Jane at one of the first hugs with his daughter in nearly 10 years. He returns her hug even tighter, closing his eyes to relish in the feeling of having his daughter back in his arms.

There are no words spoken between the two of them. They just hug, unwilling to let go out of fear of losing each other again. Jane remembers the case when Red John killed a twin sister and kidnapped the other. When he brought the kidnapped girl back to her family and saw their heartfelt reunion, he looked at them, the joy on their faces, and wondered sadly, _'Why can't _I_ have that?'_ Now, after all this time, he finally does have just that.

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**A/N: Awwwww, I love reunions! And I love YOU! Please review, favorite, and follow! See ya next time!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thanks for the response to my last chapter! I wanted to post that one for quite some time. Reunions are AWESOME! I love reading them, and, as I've discovered, I love writing them. Thank you to Elc41 and MartyMac49 for the story favorites! So, here's my response to the reviews I've gotten:**

**joan. goldman. 9**** - Thanks! I know, I'm glad too (yes, I was the one who wrote it, but I can still be glad it turned out that way)! Otherwise Jane would be a MESS.**

**TARDIS-follower**** - I KNOW! THE FEELS, IT'S JUST TOO MUCH! THIS IS HOW I FELT DURING DEVIL'S CHERRY!**

**Inesfb**** - Awwww, thanks, you're too kind. :) As for Jisbon, I'm still arguing with myself over whether or not to put it in here or if it has a place in this story since, you know, now that Jane has his daughter back, his wife is going to creep into his thoughts. Maybe I'll do a bit of an epilogue and put some Jisbon in there, or maybe I'll do my best to put it in before that. One thing I know for sure is that if they DO get together, Jane won't just forget about Angela. He'll probably agonize over it for a while. Overall, the story will be Jisbon if you squint, just until I make a decision.**

**Rosepeony**** - Thank you! I wanted him to ease into it, since I can't see even HIM saying, "Oh, by the way, I'm your biological father. Wanna go get some tea?" And there's a whole lot in store for the Jane family now.**

**MartyMac49**** - Thanks, I loved writing the reunion! Don't worry, I'm not too mean. I can't promise everything will be fine and dandy from now on, but I know I have powers, and I shall use them for good instead of evil! *superman pose***

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After about an hour of hugging, crying from both of them, and explaining on his part, Jane and Cassie leave the room together, their arms linked in a tight hold. They make sure the walk back to the office area is slow, giving them time to talk and a little more time for explanation to ease Cassie's confusion. Jane's still bursting with joy and unshed tears, but he's trying to stay calm. The last thing he needs is to frighten her when he knows that suddenly experiencing this flood of emotions _definitely_ frightens him.

He's surprised that's she's even maintaining physical contact with him, something she usually avoids like the plague unless he catches her with her guard down. It's like he unlocked the key to her trust when he told her he's her father. She's not acting distant towards him in any way. As for her mercurial temperament, he's not sure whether or not that's staying, but she's not angry with him for not finding her earlier or saddened by the news of her mother's death. She just seems happy, an emotion he really likes on her. Maybe he just misses seeing his smiling little girl. She's so sad sometimes that it rubs off on him. Hopefully, she'll brighten up now that one more shadow isn't hanging over her.

"So, now that you know your birth name, what do you want to be called?" Jane asks her. He doesn't mind her keeping it Cassie, but maybe she'll like her given one even better. He certainly does. Cassie thinks about it for a second, eventually shrugging.

"Charlotte is a bit long, but it's elegant. Did I have a nickname?" In fact, she did. It's the name Jane has called her by in his mind all the years that he thought she was dead.

"Everyone called you Charlie. I know it sounds like a boy's name, but we thought it was cute. You can go by whatever nickname or given name you want, though." Cassie smiles and nods to herself when she hears her childhood nickname. It doesn't look like she remembers it, but it looks like she's considering it.

"I'll tell you what; I'll go by Charlotte for now and decide on whether or not I want to go by Charlie." Jane agrees to the plan. He's just so impossibly happy to have her back that he'd agree to anything.

Jane and _Charlotte_ stroll in to the bullpen at the CBI, both with matching smiles that threaten to burst at the seams. There's so much happiness in Jane's heart that it reaches his eyes in large quantities, a rarity for him. It's like a gust of cold air goes through the room when they seem him. Everyone notices immediately.

"What did we miss?" Cho asks monotonously. With everyone gathered around, Jane decides that there's no better time. Sure, it's probably highly inappropriate to announce it right now, but if he doesn't now, when will he? Besides, there is no good time to announce something like this.

"Everyone, I have an announcement to make. Well, I guess we both do."

With everyone staring, Jane puts his arm around Charlotte protectively.

"Through various blood tests, we have determined that Cassie is in fact my daughter Charlotte." At first, there's no reaction, but after the words sink in, everyone realizes how big this is and they all look at each other in shock and confusion, except for Lisbon, who smiles happily at Jane's joy. "Now, I know you're thinking that I must be wrong because Charlotte's dead. However, she was never actually dead. I never told you guys, but Red John didn't kill her. I faked _everything _about her death besides her mother actually being dead. He kidnapped her after he killed my wife. I'm sorry I kept this from you for so long, but I needed to. It's nothing personal. So, any questions?"

The short, blunt, but effective explanation leaves the team with their jaws dropped.

"Um, how is that even possible?" Rigsby asks, dumbfounded by the revelation. Jane sighs, wondering what part of it was hard to understand.

"Red John likes to toy with me. He took her and told me that I was never to tell anyone or he would kill her. I just assumed over the years that she was dead, but he dumped her in foster care and let her bounce around for years as the ultimate torture for me. I'm telling you all now because it's almost guaranteed that since everyone already knows she's living with me, Red John is waiting for me to put the pieces together and might assume that I know soon. However, you can't so much as mention this to anyone else, even someone you trust. We want to be cautious. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to fill out some paperwork." Jane takes Charlotte by the arm and leads her to his couch, not waiting for anyone else to say something to them.

As Charlotte sits down, she asks him, "It's paperwork to formally gain custody of me from the foster system, isn't it?" Jane smiles at her answer, which is obviously the correct one. Yep, she's definitely her father's daughter.

"You know it. I want to legally make sure those idiots at the foster system can never dictate your life again." Charlotte gives him a small smile, seemingly thankful for his concern. He doubts anyone has taken this amount of interest in her.

"Thanks…" she pauses, then drops her sentence. Jane knows what her hesitation is about. "I don't know what to call you," she says with a smirk on her face. "I can't exactly call you 'Mr. Jane' when 'Jane' is my last name now too; that'd just be too weird. And I'm certainly not calling you Patrick." Her smirk fades while she thinks.

"You can call me 'dad' if you want," he tells her gently, testing the waters. A sly grin very similar to his appears on her face. "Thanks, _Dad_," she tries again. After her sentence, she smiles even more brightly. "I like that. It's nice to call someone 'Dad'. It will take some getting used to, but I like it a lot."

Jane can practically feel Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt staring at him. It's true that since he lost his family, he hasn't been the most tender, loving person in the world, so he's sure him having this type of conversation with his newfound daughter is quite a sight.

"I can't exactly envision Jane with a daughter," he faintly hears Cho say to Lisbon from across the room.

"You've always known that he had one at one point. He just so happens to still have her," Lisbon replies somewhat defensively. It makes Jane smile. She's already protective of his relationship with Charlotte.

"Okay, that's it," Rigsby states, placing down the folder he was holding. Jane raises his eyebrows questioningly.

"What's it?" he asks.

Rigsby motions to Jane and Charlotte with an exasperated look on his face. "You drop the bombshell on us that your daughter is alive and that she's the girl we've known as Cassie and expect us to just go back to work like nothing happened?! This is big, Jane. Have you ever thought about the fact that this could mean that this case has something to do with Red John? Like you said, there are no coincidences with him." For some reason unknown to him, Jane feels mildly offended by Rigsby's statement.

"Well, I'm sorry if the only thing I can think about is the daughter I just regained after years of thinking I caused her death," he replies sarcastically.

"Of course I thought about Red John. I always do, you know that much. Maybe he has something to do with Swanson's death, but I don't know what to think for once in my life. Why now? He could have so many opportunities to kill one of her foster parents and let me have her back, but he chooses this one. Why would he? Maybe me having her back is part of his master plan. Maybe Swanson just got what was coming to him and Red John had no involvement. I don't know." Rigsby goes silent, like Jane expects.

It's best not to mess with Jane when he's annoyed or upset. Not because he's decent sized; Rigsby is much bigger than him, in fact. It's because Jane is perhaps the smartest person any of the team has met. You don't just mess with a genius.

Charlotte, however, cannot help but chime in. "What if Mr. Swanson was friends with Red John, or a friend of a friend? I mean, if he's that obsessed with your life, I expect he'd keep tabs on me." Rigsby stares at the girl, then back to Jane. He's probably thinking about how alike the two are. And they are alike, both in personality and in looks.

Her curly blonde hair and mischievous blue-green eyes make her a mirror of Jane, so much so that it's hard to believe that he didn't guess that this girl was somehow related to him from the first moment. And as for her personality, despite being more unpredictable, she definitely has Jane's sass and observational skills.

Van Pelt's quizzical expression distracts Jane from his thoughts, making him wonder what about the computer that she's so skilled at has given her trouble.

"Is everything alright, Grace?" he asks her, concerned. Van Pelt turns to him with her confused expression still playing on her features.

"Someone's hacked our server and sent us a message. That's impossible…" Jane feels dread washing over him as he runs over to her computer. He has a terrible feeling about this.

"Click on it," he demands of her. She does so, revealing a chilling message on the screen:

_Dear Mister Jane,_

_I do hope that your dear daughter Charlotte is doing well. She is quite lovely, isn't she? With her golden curls and her sparkling greenish-blue eyes… Yes, she is even prettier than her mother was. Of course, being her father again, you may want to protect her fiercely. You never know who may want to snatch up a pretty little girl like that…_

Jane can practically feel his blood run cold as he reads and re-reads the threat to his daughter's life. _'Impossible,' _he thinks. _'I've only known myself for less than a day…' _He's so in shock that he can barely hear Van Pelt yelling for the other team members to gather around.

When Charlotte appears next to him to investigate as to why there's such a commotion, he wraps his arms around her and tries to turn her away from the screen, not wanting her to see such a terrible thing during one of the happier days of her life. Despite Jane's attempts, she still manages to wiggle away from his grasp and view the screen. He can tell by the blood draining from her face and her eyes wide with horror.

Cho mumbles, "Oh God…" when he sees the message, Rigsby shakes his head, while Lisbon just stares with her mouth agape.

"How did he….?" Lisbon doesn't finish her sentence. They're all thinking it. They just found out about Charlotte and Red John already knows they know. Besides that fact, he hacked into the server and delivered it at the exact right time, right after he told the team.

"He knows everything," Jane whispers, still clutching Charlotte to his chest. Red John is so much more powerful than he once thought, which has been proved again and again. However smart he is, Jane refuses to let him take his daughter again. Over his dead body.

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**A/N: Red John is SUCH a jerk! *Looks around my dark bedroom* I-I didn't mean it! Please don't kill my family! They should put Red John on a list of scariest TV villains or something. He isn't even REAL and I'm terrified that when I insult him I'll end up on the receiving end of his knife. Anyway, please review, follow, and favorite, or Red John might get'cha! BOO!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Sorry it took so long to update. My schedule is now go to school, go to theatre club, come home, do my homework, shower, eat, then sleep. I have barely had time for anything else, but I finally found some time to update!**

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The incident from that day has loomed over everybody's head for days, casting a dark, depressing pall over the office atmosphere. Jane has been trying desperately to clear it up by ignoring the subject of Red John, but that seems nearly impossible. How can you ignore a constant presence in your life? Even when he's not there physically, he's still there somehow. Everyone knows it, whether or not they say it out loud. Bringing Charlotte to the office seems to put everyone in a better mood, though. The teammates absolutely love her, even more so now that they know she's Jane's daughter. How can you not admire a mini-Jane? Well, how can you not admire a less annoying mini-Jane?

Jane has been taking baby-steps in their relationship now that he legally gained rights over her without much problem, due to the fact that he never technically lost parental rights. She now stays in her old room instead of the guest room. He took all the furniture out like he did all the other rooms, but it was still painted pink, which did not appeal to the now less-girlish Charlotte in the least. So, the two of them remodeled it together, which proved to be a great bonding experience for the both of them as they covered each other in paint instead of the walls.

He has thought of that moment hundreds of times since it happened, laughing each time he remembers their little paint fight. Finally, he's created some happy memories with her that she can remember too. Charlotte has also been enrolled in the local high school. Jane never went to high school and does not want the same for his child. Despite her lack of schooling, her standardized test scores make it possible for her to jump to the grade she's supposed to be in with a little extra work. She's going to attend as soon as possible, right after she's done settling in.

As for the case, they're now going on the Red John lead. Jane's theory is a simple one that connects the dots to some of the other questions that have been left unanswered. He figures that Swanson is an old friend of Red John's or maybe an accomplice.

When Swanson needed money for his pricey drug habit, Red John used his connections to get them for him and used that opportunity to place Charlotte in his care and make it seem like that was how he was getting the drugs, from the money he got from caring for her; kill two birds with one stone. Jane figures that when Swanson never paid up in either cash or in favors, he was killed. Red John must have known the CBI would have jurisdiction over the case and figured that Jane could connect the dots sooner or later. However, they're not about to just put that all in the case file, so they're labeling it an open case for now.

"Dad!" Jane hears Charlotte call from the kitchen.

"You want to walk to the store by yourself," he guesses before she says anymore.

When she walks into the room, she's staring at him with her eyes narrowed in frustration.

"How did you….?" Jane holds up his hand as a sign for her to stop.

"Your tone suggested that you were going to tell me something in passing, while the slight dropping an octave at the end suggested you were going to leave and wanted to get to me quickly. What other place is there besides the store for a girl who hasn't even made any friends in this area yet?" Charlotte laughs and looks down at her feet, seemingly embarrassed by being read.

"Wow. You _are_ good." Jane smiles at the compliment from his daughter. When he thinks about the threat from Red John, he's tempted to tell her to stay home with him. On the other hand, she's just getting a life back after years of torment and abuse. Doesn't she deserve to enjoy it a little bit? Besides, it's the store, not the opposite side of the country. Reluctantly, he pulls out his wallet and hands her a twenty.

"Sure, you can go, but bring me back some Earl Grey tea."

Charlotte squeals the typical, teenage girl squeal and puts her arms around Jane's neck in a quick hug, which makes his heart soar. "Thanks, Dad!" With that, she leaves for the door.

"Wait," Jane calls out. She looks over at him.

"Yeah?" she asks, sounding defeated, thinking he's going to change his mind. He doesn't ask her not to leave or tell her to be careful or anything like that that's expected of him.

Instead, he asks, "Why were you so happy to give up the name you've had since you can remember?" He hasn't stopped thinking of that question since she so eagerly gave up the rights to the name Cassandra.

She just smiles and shakes her head. "You know why. I never really was a 'Cassie' because there wasn't really anyone or anything to tie me down to that chapter in my life. But as Charlotte, I have you." It's so simple, yet so poetic in a strange way that he has to admit he didn't know that. She exits without another word or even another glance. Jane stares at the door for a few moments, looking at the spot where his daughter was. He doesn't want her to be out in the world without him, much less be around in public where Red John could snatch her like his threat said without him there to protect her. Now he's just being overprotective.

Sighing heavily, Jane reclines on his couch, though it is not as comfy as his couch at the CBI, and closes his eyes slowly, thinking about Charlotte and all the ways to ensure her safety. Yes, he's definitely going to be an overprotective father.

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Jane's mind is in a blissful limbo where his wife's face is the main focal point. It used to be his wife and daughter, but now that he sees her current form every day, he no longer needs the dream state of his eight year old child to keep him sane, and she's been slowly fading from his dreams.

He has discovered in the past few days that the real thing is much more satisfying. However, with Charlotte back in his life, the gap in his heart his dear Angela left has grown three sizes. He has never missed her more than he does now, while trying to pick up the pieces of his former life with his daughter whom he barely knows. He can't help but think that Angela would be a much better parent than him.

The sound of the front door flying open and slamming closed makes Jane's eyes snap open. Charlotte bolts into the living room, her curly blonde locks falling in her face in a panicked frenzy and her breathing labored. She's walking around in a dizzy state, stumbling around like she's trying to find something to balance herself on. Jane gets up immediately and runs to her.

"Charlotte, Charlotte, calm down," he whispers in her ear as he holds her. Charlotte thrashes around in his grip, trying unsuccessfully to get words out. Jane knows that hypnotizing his daughter to calm down is the only thing he can do to get her story out. "Charlotte, I need you to listen very carefully to the sound of my voice…." Jane doesn't even get the chance to get to the good part before Charlotte scoffs and looks at him incredulously.

"My threshold isn't low enough for that. I don't need to be hypnotized. I just need…" She shivers unstably and buries her face into Jane's chest. He rubs her back up and down in a comforting motion he used on her when she was little.

"Shhhh… Just tell me what happened." Even though he asks her like he doesn't know, Jane's instincts tell him it can only be one thing; Red John. As Charlotte's breathing slows down to slow, calm breaths, she cranes her neck out of Jane's chest.

"I was walking down the street, on the sidewalk, watching passing cars and all… I didn't think anything of it, but there was a black car that was consistent with my speed. After a while, I knew something was up, so I walked faster… then faster, and then I started running. It followed me all the way. I ran all the way to the store and went inside. I waited for the car to leave but it just stayed there, like whoever was in it was watching me and waiting for me to leave so they could grab me."

She starts to shake her head, like she's trying to shake the memory right out of her brain. All Jane can feel is rage at whoever followed his daughter; it was one of Red John's disciples, no doubt.

"I knew they weren't going to leave, so I decided to just walk outside and hope for the best. I knew there were witnesses, so they couldn't grab me. Then someone actually _got out_ _of the car_ and started to tail me, but they made it seem discrete, like he was just a random guy walking down the street. He was wearing a black hoodie and glasses, so I couldn't even see him properly. When all the witnesses were out of sight again, I had to start sprinting here so they couldn't take me. If I wasn't such a good runner…" He already knows what she's thinking. If she were any slower, she would have been taken. "Oh Dad, I was so scared…." She collapses back into his chest, shaking from the adrenaline rush she's just had.

Backing up, he deposits them both on the couch, still letting her cling to him. Gently, he detaches her arms from around him and stands up. She makes a whimper in protest, but he takes her hand and pats it.

"I'll be right back. I promise. Just lay down. You look like you could use some rest." Charlotte nods weakly, reclining back on the couch and lying down, but keeping her eyes on her father. Jane gives her a reassuring smile that only a parent could give and disappears into the dining room, taking his cell phone out of his pocket in the process.

Without needing to think, he dials Lisbon's number and holds the phone up to his ear, tapping his foot between dial tones.

_"Hey, Jane,"_ he hears from the other end of the phone.

Instead of returning the greeting, Jane bluntly blurts out, "Red John's people tried to kidnap Charlotte!" He checks himself, trying to make sure Charlotte can't hear him from the living room. Luckily, he thinks he was just quiet enough.

_"What? When did this happen?" _

Jane sighs and recounts Charlotte's story, his concern growing as he spills this all to Lisbon. Nothing feels right anymore. Before, he had time to find Red John, but now, his time is running out very quickly and he feels like Charlotte could die at Red John's hands before he captures him.

_"Jane, she can't go out without someone guarding her. We need to put her on twenty-four hour protection. Now, I know you think it doesn't work with Red John, but it's the only choice we have."_ Jane can't help but agree with her. He knows that Red John will most likely find a way around the security surrounding Charlotte, but at least it will give him some peace of mind.

"Fine. Get her twenty-four hour protection, the best you can provide." He's about to hang up with her when something else crosses his mind. "And Lisbon?" he says quickly.

_'Hmm?" _she responds, ready to hang up. Jane starts, keeping his voice level and emotionless.

"I just want to let you know that this will not turn out like any other time we've tried to guard people from Red John. I promise her and myself that I will not let anything happen to her. I'll guard her with my life. She means so much more to me than my own life. And if it comes down to me or her… she better live." Jane hangs up without waiting for a response. He meant everything he said. He's prepared to die in order to let his daughter live. If only Red John would take compromises…

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**A/N: Sorry it was sort of short, but I have some plans for the next chapter, so that's why. Please review, follow, and favorite and I'll update as soon as I can.**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Darn school for taking up all my spare time! I REALLY wanted to update, but Latin class has a lot of projects, soooo... It takes some time.**

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Out of the corner of his eye, Jane can see Charlotte staring at Cho, like if she looks hard enough, he'll disappear. He has the urge to chuckle, but he doesn't want to break her out of her concentration. Cho turns around and looks back at her.

"Is there something you need?" he asks in his usual no-nonsense tone. Charlotte is unflinching in her gaze, not intimidated by him like most teenagers would be.

"Do you guys absolutely have to be here at all hours of the day? Won't he find a way to get me anyway?" she asks. Her tone isn't rude; it's blunt and to the point, yet curious. Even Cho, a hardened cop who gives sympathy to no one, seems to feel bad for her because of her situation.

"We're here to protect you," Cho tells her. Charlotte quickly nods and looks away, disappointment etched in her face. Jane hasn't exactly enjoyed the constant company either. All he wants is some time alone with his daughter so they can move past being strangers, but now she can't be alone in a room with him unless they also have Cho or Rigsby nearby. It's frustrating, to say the least, but he'll go to any length to protect his child. Besides, it's not all bad. Charlotte and Rigsby have formed a solid friendship because he acts more like someone her age than a cop his own age. _'Finally, that fact about him pays off,'_ Jane thinks sarcastically as he reads his book, glancing at his daughter after each paragraph he finishes.

He has noticed lately how much better she looks now that she knows who she is. Her curly blonde hair has grown down to a little bit past her shoulders and she has put on a proper amount of weight. She's still too skinny in his opinion, but she looks healthier. However, the best thing Jane has noticed is the way she glows with happiness and innocence, and the twinkle in her bluish-green eyes. That is the biggest change in her. Whenever he looks at the sparkle in her gaze, he can't help but smile at her. It gives him a warm fuzzy feeling knowing that he's partially the reason the person he loves more than anything in the world is finally happy.

This whirlwind week with Charlotte has been crazy for Jane. He's been acting like everything is normal, giving her some distance so she can readjust back into her life. However, when he's alone, he thinks back to those dark times when he would stumble across some of her old clothes or toys and then sit on the floor, holding the object to his chest and crying for hours about how much he missed her and how he wished he could have seen her grow into a young woman like her friends were so rapidly doing. He wants nothing more than to hug her every minute of every day and spill to her how much he loves her and has missed her. It suddenly strikes him that he has yet to say those words. He hasn't told her he loves her. Maybe, deep down, he's scared of being rejected. After all, she has no memory of those first eight years of her life when Jane raised her and nurtured her.

She doesn't even know anything about Angela other than her name and what her nightmares have told her. Why would she love him? He doesn't want to make her uncomfortable or make her feel like she must respond. She means the world to him. When he looks at his seventeen year old Charlotte, he tilts his head to the side and imagines that eight year old who would run around with boundless energy. It hurts sometimes, knowing he's missed so much of her life. It makes him feel robbed, cheated. It hurts even more to know that her life has been full of pain and hatred.

_'I'll make up for it somehow,'_ Jane thinks determinedly. _'I'll make sure that she never again lives life for anything besides her own enjoyment.'_

"What time is it, anyway?" Charlotte asks, yawning tiredly when she finishes her sentence. "I'm exhausted." Jane checks his watch.

"It is 11:00, and probably time for you to get to bed, sweetheart."

He stands up out of his chair and takes her by the hand, leading her to her room. Of course, Rigsby is trailing behind, waiting to search her bedroom to make sure it's safe. It annoys Jane just slightly. He wouldn't dare object to it, though. He wants to take every necessary measure to make sure nothing happens to his little girl, but he just wishes he could be worrying about her falling into the wrong crowd or getting an unsavory boyfriend like every other parent of a teenage girl. But he's not an average parent, and Charlotte's not an average teenage girl.

Jane stops short of the door and looks at Rigsby.

"Just go ahead and check the room. I want some alone time with my daughter after you're done." He still can't shake the joy he feels turning inside him when he says those words out loud; my daughter. A small smile appears on his face and, unbeknownst to him, it actually reaches his eyes. Rigsby does his search, during which Jane stays outside the door with Charlotte.

She rests her head on his shoulder, looking utterly tired. He strokes her curly blonde hair, a few shades lighter than his own. It makes him think of Angela. Her hair was that color, but straight as a board. Charlotte got the curl from him, along with her eyes and some of her personality. The likeable parts of her personality are mostly from his beloved Angie. _'She'd be better at this than I am,'_ Jane thinks dejectedly. _'She would have been a much better parent than I am.'_

"It's safe," Rigsby announces, breaking Jane out of his reverie. Carefully, he helps Charlotte into her room. It's painted a baby blue and decorated to her liking, which also includes some decidedly non-teenage things including Star Wars posters and unique and colorful artwork. Jane sometimes can't believe she turned out to be such a well-rounded individual. Even though he knows that can't take credit for that, it makes him proud to be her father.

Charlotte snuggles under the covers of her bed, still holding Jane's hand. He sits next to her on the bed, tucking her in like she's eight again. He smiles winsomely at the memory of her.

"You know I haven't tucked you into bed for nine years?" She grins at him, squeezing his hand.

"Well, if it helps, you can tuck me in anytime you want to. It feels nice. I can't remember ever being tucked in to bed, probably because I can't remember being a kid below age eight." Jane sighs. He wishes she could remember. He wishes it so badly. Maybe then she would remember how much he doted on her and how much she loved her 'Daddy'. He smiles at her suddenly.

"You're so much like your mother," he blurts out. Of course, she's a great mixture of both of them, but she holds so many of her mother's features. Immediately, she perks up at the mention of this mysterious fixture in her past life.

"What was she like?"

Jane smiles and laughs lightly at her eagerness. Then he sighs. There's so much about Angie that she could never know unless she suddenly remembered her. How could he possibly manage to tell her about this wonderful woman who he hasn't really talked about for years? Of course, he has to try.

"She was… kind. She was kind and gentle and generous. She loved people for everything they were instead of hating them for everything that they weren't. It was peculiar, really. She would hate someone if they purposely hurt other people for their own gain, which is why she hated living the carnie lifestyle. At the same time, she looked past my faults and the faults of her brother and loved us in a way I know we didn't deserve. She was the most amazing woman I've ever known." She looks at him curiously.

"She was a carnie? I'm guessing you were too, weren't you?" He nods.

"We ran away together when we were sixteen. We got married and you came along not that long after. She knew you were going to be a girl right after she found out she was pregnant. Sometimes I swore she was more of a mentalist than I was." Charlotte smiles and looks off into the distance, seemingly trying to picture Angela in her mind. With her light blonde hair, warm hazel eyes, and delicate stature, she's a very easy person to conjure up in your mind. If Jane can't have Angie back, at least he has their daughter.

Jane leans forward and hugs Charlotte, a gesture she surprisingly accepts and responds to by wrapping her arms around his neck while sitting up slightly in her bed. He makes no attempt to break the hug. It still feels good to have his daughter materialized in front of him instead of having to imagine her.

"I love you," he blurts out. As soon as the words leave his mouth, he can feel his eyes widening. He's finally said it, those words he's been agonizing over for weeks. He's never doubted that he loves her, but he doesn't think his heart can take it if she rejects him. At first, there's no response from her, and Jane begins to think the worst.

Then, she whispers, "I love you, too." It catches him off guard, but in a wonderful way. He berates himself for ever feeling nervous in the first place. This is his daughter. Of course, she only has a few weeks full of memories of him while he has years, but he still feels absolutely silly for worrying that she wouldn't say the words back.

Jane reluctantly backs away from the hug so he can leave his exhausted daughter to sleep.

"Goodnight, Charlotte," he says with a small smile on his face.

"Call me Charlie," is her simple response. Jane smiles even wider than before.

"Goodnight, Charlie."

She sighs in exhaustion and gives him a smile back. "Goodnight, Dad." Jane kisses her forehead and leaves the room, keeping the door cracked open and walking back to the living room where everyone is barricaded.

"Hello, everybody. I'm sorry you're here on this beautiful night on account of Charlie and me, but I appreciate the effort. Just look at you all. You're practically bursting from the seams with enthusiasm!" It's a usual Jane-like jab at the haggard team, but this time, it falls flat.

"Charlie?" Cho asks. Jane shrugs.

"It's been her nickname ever since she was little. I just took to calling her that again." Van Pelt gives her usual child-like smile that appears on her face whenever something even mildly heart-warming takes place.

"I think it's a great nickname. It suits her." Jane can't help but agree. It's quirky, yet beautiful, just like his Charlie.

"Alright, everyone, you deserve some sleep. How about calling it a night? I know I'm beat." He yawns for effect and heads to his bedroom before anyone can answer. Of course they'll sleep, but it'll be in shifts. He's not required to take a shift, as he is one of the people who require protection.

He enters the bedroom he once shared with Angela. It's more furnished now, with an actual bed, a dresser, a desk, and a rug. However, the red smiley face made of his wife's blood remains. It's unsettling to Charlie, but she doesn't put up much of a fight when Jane insists it stays on the wall. Maybe he hopes that if it stays, he can hold onto the past. Maybe then he doesn't have to move on, he thinks as he lay on his bed. He wants to move on for Charlie, but with Red John still out there, it's not possible. Besides, he doesn't want to forget about his wife. He'll consider moving on when that man is dead, and only then.

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**A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Please REVIEW, FOLLOW, and FAVORITE!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Okay, so don't throw things at me, but... I still don't know whether or not I'm adding Jisbon. *Dodges tomatoes and chairs* Sorry! I just can't at the moment because Angela is going to be mentioned quite a bit, so adding Jisbon when Jane is thinking of his dead wife would just be weird. ANYWAYS, enjoy!**

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_The smell of cake hit Patrick's nose as soon as he walked in the door, nearly knocking him over. _

_"Angie!" he called. "What are you making in there?" His blonde wife swept into the living room to greet her husband, wrapping her arms around him in a quick hug. _

_"Charlie's helping me make a chocolate cake," she explained to him. He raised his eyebrows questioningly. _

_"And why are you two troublemakers doing that?" he asked. Angela shrugged. _

_"We got bored and Charlie's never baked before, so I told her I'd show her how." _

_As if her name was a cue, little Charlie called from the kitchen, "Mommy! I think the timer just rang!" Angela ran to the kitchen, Patrick following close behind. Charlie was sitting on a stool in front of the oven while staring at the cake. As soon as Patrick walked in, she jumped up off of the stool and hugged her father around the legs, her head just barely reaching his waist. _

_"Daddy! We made a cake today, chocolate just like you like it!" Patrick laughed and kneeled down in front of his daughter to hug her properly. She certainly was a Daddy's girl. They were so much alike, and of course chocolate was her favorite too. _

_"Did you have a good day, my little psychic?" he asked her. At the tender age of six, his little girl was exhibiting signs of being a talented observer, but Patrick would never let her walk down the same path as he did. In all honesty, he hated his job a lot of days, but it was the only thing he knew how to do. He never went to high school, and he had a family to support. This job was the only option he had that would allow him to feed a family of three._

_"I had a great day, Daddy! And I know you don't like work, so I thought that the cake would cheer you up!" Patrick picked her up and spun her around in his arms, spurred on by her childish giggle. "Daddy, Daddy, put me down! Mommy, help!" _

_Angela got a mischievous smile on her face and said slowly, "Oh… I'll help alright…. I'll help Daddy!" Patrick held Charlie in his arms while Angie tickled her six year old relentlessly. _

_"S-St-Stop!" Charlie demanded of them, trying to speak through her giggles. Patrick shook his head with a bright smile gracing his face. _

_"Not until you say we're the BEST Mommy and Daddy ever!" Charlie may have had trouble breathing, but she was a stubborn girl. She wasn't just about to give in to her father's demands._

_"N-No w-wa-way!" Charlie shouted forcefully. Patrick only smiled wider. Her making it harder for him just made him want to break her down even more. _

_"Angie, tickle her feet!" Charlie turned her head to look at him, her eyes saying 'You know I'm extremely ticklish there!' Angela gave her husband a devilish smile and looked back over to Charlie. _

_"You know Patrick that sounds like a wonderful idea to me…" Keeping one hand still tickling Charlie's stomach, she used her other to attack her feet. Charlie jumped in surprise, squirming around in Patrick's grasp and gasping for air with a permanent smile on her face._

_"O-Okay! You-You're th-the be-best par-ents ev-ever!" Angela grinned and stopped tickling her daughter. Patrick set her down and messed up her hair. _

_"Thank you, my little psychic! Now, let's get to that cake, shall we?" Angie wrapped herself around Patrick's waist and stopped him. _

_"Dear, I think you're forgetting about dinner." He turned around and put on his best pouty face for his wife. _

_"Awwww, but that cake smells so good!" Angie turned so their lips were close to touching when she noticed that their daughter was distracted. _

_"Just think of how good it will be when you've waited for it." With that, she placed a swift but lingering kiss on his lips. _

_"I love you," Patrick whispered in her ear. _

_"I love you too," she answered. They shared another brief kiss before their overly-observant daughter could have noticed._

Jane wakes up suddenly. The memory dissolves in front of his eyes, much to his dismay. Like a lunatic, he reaches upward in his bed, trying to grab onto the pieces of the broken dream. He wants to go back to bed and wrap himself up in his dream world, where he's living happily with his beautiful wife and their amazing daughter without a care about this man called Red John. Never again will he feel a pain as immense as he felt that night when he lost everything. He knows that losing Angie humbled him, but he wishes with all his heart that he could turn back the clock and make it so it didn't have to come to something so tragic to make him a better person.

It's been at least twenty minutes since he woke up and he's still in bed. He's still wondering how he forgot that Charlie was a master of observation and manipulation like him. Maybe he just blocked it out throughout the years.

"Jane!" he hears Lisbon yell from the stairs. It's only her voice that moves him out of his cozy bed.

"Coming, wait a second!" he yells back while grabbing his usual dress shirt and vest out of his closet and a pair of dress pants of a hanger. He rushes to dress himself, not buttoning the vest because it would be too time consuming. Lisbon sounded urgent, and Jane knows it has something to do with him. His guess? It has something to do with Red John or Charlie. _'Maybe both…'_ The thought makes him rush out his door and down the stairs. Relief floods him when he sees Charlie sitting on the couch next to Rigsby, but the relief leaves him when he sees the blood is drained from her face. She's shaking her feet in anxiousness and Rigsby is rubbing her back comfortingly like a concerned older brother. Jane immediately knows what's happening. Red John killed someone, probably someone close to them. He knew Red John was planning on killing more people close to him, but he completely forgot in the midst of the chaos that getting his child back brought. He walks towards them, but his legs feel numb, like they're jelly.

"What happened?" he asks, holding onto Charlie's hand as a way to reassure himself she's safe. Lisbon sighs, using the face she has on when she's comforting the family of a victim. It's a bad sign.

"We got a call from a few people preforming at the carnival set up here in Sacramento. There's been a Red John killing. The victim's name is Emma Lee." It takes Jane a few seconds to fully receive the news. At first, it just seems like a sentence, a collection of words delivering him news. But when he puts it all together in his mind, he feels his heart drop in his chest. He feels his face transforms into a deep frown. _'No, it can't be Emma. Not her!' _Lisbon places her hand on his shoulder comfortingly.

"Jane? Who was she to you?" Jane glances at his daughter, who's now waiting patiently. She's a teenager, yet she's so much like an adult. She's been forced to grow up to fast, like he was. She can handle this. Slowly, Jane turns and looks Lisbon in the eyes.

"Emma Lee and I were in the carnival together… She was a friend of mine. She practically raised me."

"I thought you travelled the carnival circuit with your father?" Cho asks, wondering why Jane claims this woman raised him when he actually had a parent present.

"Yes, I did, but he took little interest in raising me. He left me to my own devices," Jane spits out bitterly. It surprises even him. He never discusses his father in any way, instead choosing to give round-a-bout answers to anyone who asks about his childhood. He doesn't feel the need to blurt out his personal life to just anyone. Well, he doesn't talk about it with anybody, really. He keeps the past in the past.

"Well, I… I guess we need to get to the crime scene," Jane says in a voice barely above a whisper. Without looking at anyone, Jane starts walking out of the house and straight to his car. _'I just need to get this over with,' _he thinks. _'Don't think about it. Just don't think about it.'_

* * *

The usual bright, loud atmosphere at the carnival is missing. Whether that's because they're setting up currently or because of the death of one of their own, Jane doesn't know. There's an unspoken rule in the carnie lifestyle; you don't ever act like anything is out of the ordinary, especially when there are outsiders around. Of course, some people will be sad about Emma Lee's passing, but many people won't show it. Jane knows just what people to visit; Pete and Sam, his old carnival buddies. He knows that they'll be devastated over Emma, just like he is.

The crime scene stops him dead in his tracks. It's Red John, no doubt. Emma's body lies next to her trailer, which is marked by a bloody smiley face above her body. Immediately after coming close to the mutilated body of the woman who was once his surrogate mother, Jane stumbles backwards, his hand over his mouth in horror. Images of Angela's body cut open and bleeding onto the floor flash through his mind as they're replaced by the sight of Emma's body. It looks too similar to Angela's in the positioning. He just can't go through this again. Not another person he cares about.

Lisbon appears next to him. "The victim's name is Emma Lee. She was 61 years old, a juggler for this carnival circuit. Her body was found by some of the other carnies today at 7:00 a.m. She left behind no family." Jane nods numbly after her explanation. It sounds about right to him. He's visited the carnival a handful of times since eloping with Angie. She was in her late thirties to early forties when he met her, he thinks. He could be wrong. She didn't have a husband or children, so she was more than happy to take Jane in whenever his father drank or became enraged for some reason that Jane never understood. It was no secret in the carnival that Alex Jane mistreated his son horribly, and Emma decided that the least she could do was give the boy a place to stay when he needed somewhere safe to hide. It was her who introduced him to Angela Ruskin, a girl his age who was considered 'carnie royalty'. For that, he owes her everything; his wife, his daughter, and his happiness. He owes her everything, and now he can't pay her back. He waited too long, and now she's dead.

Jane walks away from the crime scene just as Rigsby begins to examine it. He can't take it anymore. As he walks towards the non-functioning merry-go-round, he notices Charlie sitting on a horse, her head resting on the bar as she stares off into the distance in a daze of some sorts. She doesn't look peaceful, far from it actually. She looks alarmed. Jane wastes no time approaching her. She doesn't even notice his presence. She just keeps on staring hard at something he can't see. He knows that look. She's in a self-induced trance. He's seen it many times with people who have been hypnotized or victims of crimes who force themselves to forget what happened. So, he doesn't disrupt it. She'll be back to him soon.

Charlie shudders and comes crashing back down to earth. Jane takes this as his cue to wrap a comforting arm around her, bringing her face to his chest. He doesn't ask her what happened. She'll do that in her own time. Instead, he plays the role of the loving father. He remembers a time when she flinched away from his touch, a time when she went by the name of Cassie. Now, his Charlie is calmed by his touch and presence. Sighing heavily, Charlie comes out of her shell, facing Jane as she speaks to him.

"You've brought me here before, haven't you?" It's a question, but he has a feeling she knows the answer. Jane nods.

"Yes, your mother and I brought you here a couple of times. All the carnie folk loved you." He smiles at the memory. Angie insisted on showing their daughter where they came from, and for some crazy reason, Jane agreed with her at the time. They had a wonderful time, and Emma had taken a liking to Charlie. By the end of the day, she was calling Emma 'grandma'. While Jane is smiling, Charlie looks frustrated and on the verge of tears. Those two things are never a good combination, especially in her.

"Charlie, sweetheart, what's wrong?" He encases her in his embrace even tighter, wishing desperately that he could hug the sadness right out of her. Instead, she shuts her eyes tightly and grits her teeth.

"It's just… frustrating, you know? She was my _mother_ and I can't remember _anything_ about her. She raised me for the first eight years of my life and I forgot about her. I feel like I should remember her. I want so badly to remember, but I just can't, no matter what I do and how badly I want to! Why can't I remember?!" By this time, her hands are in her hair and she's trying to steady her breathing to keep from screaming out loud. "I hate my stupid brain! I hate whoever did this to me! I've never been so angry and frustrated and _sad _in my life!"

Jane sits down on the back of the horse, rubbing Charlie's shoulders to keep her from losing her cool.

"Your memory is blocked, whether it is by hypnotism, an injury, drugs, or by your own force. Coming back here must be a trigger for a memory. You remembered coming here. Can you tell me exactly what you saw in your mind?" She closes her eyes again and breathes deeply.

"I'm here, with you, a woman I think is my mom and an older woman. You and the older woman are off the ride and talking while my mom is riding on the same horse as I am. It's hazy, but I can see that she's got long, blonde hair. It's tickling my cheeks because she's so close to me. She's laughing and enjoying herself, and so am I…" Charlie shakes her head and opens her eyes. "It's so clear, yet it's fuzzy. I don't understand."

Jane sees his opening. This is the right time. He takes her hand and gently leads her off the ceramic horse.

"Hey Charlie, do you wanna meet some old friends of mine?" Her expression turns ecstatic like she was never sad in the first place.

"Sure!" she exclaims, stumbling off the platform of the ride to follow her father. Jane shakes his head and chuckles; Pete and Sam are in for a big surprise.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry I haven't updated in a while. Life in general just gets in the way. Thank you for reading!**


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